


Not Guilty

by brightbriar



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Ancient Egyptian Deities, Card Games, Duel Monsters, Duelling, Gen, Murder Mystery, Post Ceremonial Duel, Post-Canon, Sennen Items | Millennium Items, Yami no Game | Shadow Game, a Mistake™, a tolstoy novel with childrens trading card games, also me: okay but what if you made them all suffer, and look while that was meant to be self-deprecating I'd also read that unironically, literally a tolstoy novel in the works, me: wow I love all of these characters so much, past rape/non-con comes up eventually, tldr; I'm a dumbass and this is going to be very long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbriar/pseuds/brightbriar
Summary: After Battle City, Marik never thought he'd have a reason to return to Domino City again. But two years later, when the Millennium Items are unearthed, and a promising young duelist dies playing duel monsters opposite Yugi Mutou, Marik is determined to find out exactly what happened. Alongside an unexpected, and perhaps unwanted companion, he searches for the truth about how Kioru Tadako died, haunted by the ghosts of his past as he unravels the mysteries of the present.(Alternative title: in which Marik has to deal with Emotions™)





	1. Prologue: Disturbance Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you sou much for picking this up, hope y'all enjoy :)
> 
> (Marik Ishtar deserves love so of course I thought I'd make him suffer lmao)
> 
> One important thing to note, though: as a reader of the manga, I've used 'Yugi Mutou', 'Jonouchi Katsuya', etc., when referring to already existing characters, but original characters whose surnames would usually come first _do_ have their names in the correct order (i.e. Kioru Tadako is Kioru Sato's son). And then there are other OCs who are partially Japanese and have their names the other way...hopefully it's not too confusing!
> 
> Also, two years after battle city = one year after the ceremonial duel = six months after dsod :)  
> (update: this fic is now one year after dsod because I wanted winter/snow XD)
> 
> (this will get long, just in general)

 Robberies weren’t really Marik’s style. Yet here he was, in a bathroom stall on ground floor of the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities, hiding himself away as he waited for the clock to tick over to ten past seven.

He’d spent the day at the museum, taking in the hundreds of artefacts on display, wandering through dozens of spacious, well-lit rooms, which all smelled a little like dust and wet stone. Statues, masks, ancient hieroglyphs — he’d poured over them, getting lost in the past, a pastime that he didn’t usually enjoy all that much, but today was an exception. Usually, he was quite averse to staring at ancient Egyptian artefacts for long periods of time — it tended to elicit unwanted memories. But he rarely went to Cairo, and being up close to such impressive monuments and relics was undeniably awe-inspiring.

The artefacts back home, further south, certainly inspired something, but awe wasn’t it.

As much as he’d enjoyed the museum during the day, he hadn’t come just to look. There was something here that really didn’t belong in this museum, or any museum, for that matter. Sure, it was ancient, and Egyptian, and very impressive. (Specifically, it was very shiny.) In that regard, it was absolutely ideal for display in a museum such as this. But Marik saw a problem with keeping it in a museum that had escaped the notice of the museum curators — it was far too dangerous. Or, more accurately, _they_ were dangerous. He was here for the Millennium Items. 

Marik had mixed feelings about the Millennium Items. To him, they were like old friends, but the kind of old friend that you don’t like very much, and you only keep around because they’re useful, and you’ve both been through so much shit together that they’re kind of your responsibility. He’d been perfectly content to leave them buried deep in the earth, where they belonged, but someone had gone and excavated them, and they’d ended up behind a glass case. More than anything, Marik was skeptical about how secure they were. He doubted a glass case, some alarms, and some sprinklers, would be enough to keep someone from stealing them. He was here to test that theory, before someone else did. 

The museum’s Sunday hours were 9am-7pm. He sat cross-legged on a toilet seat, with the lid down, bouncing his foot as he eyed his watch. If he’d been stealing anything else, he would have waited until much later, into the next morning, but he felt confident. Nervous, but confident. He stood up, peering through the crack in the side of the door to check no one else was in the bathroom. He opened the door and stepped out, taking a couple of seconds to fix his thick strands of blonde hair in the mirror. If he was going to steal the Millennium Items, he may as well look good while doing it.

 He opened the bathroom door, slipping carefully down the corridor, his eyes narrowing as he focused, leaning against the wall, taking a deep breath. This was the only point where he might be vulnerable —when he was sneaking around _without_ the Millennium Items on him. One he had them, he could use shadow magic to get away, but right now, if someone saw him, he couldn’t brainwash them, or make himself invisible with the Millennium Key.

He peered out from behind the wall. The Millennium Items, being pretty and shiny, were the centrepiece of a new installation, hanging on the back wall of one of the main rooms. There was no doubt he’d set off one alarm or another once he got close to them, but that was fine. Once he was close, it would be too late. He took another moment or two to breathe, his heart pounding in his ears, he moved quietly into the open, throwing a quick glance over each shoulder to check that he didn’t have company. Satisfied that he was alone for the time being, his gaze darted to the seven golden artefacts at the far end of the room, behind a sheet of glass. He strode purposefully towards them, activating his duel disk, which had been lying dormant on his right arm. He figured smashing the glass shouldn’t be too difficult — it was designed to be non-reflective, and to protect the artefacts from UV rays, rather than actually _shielding_ the objects behind it. Finally reaching the items, he drove the sharp point of the duel disk into the glass, jumping back as it shattered, his face lighting up slightly as most of the glass collapsed completely, as though it were made of porcelain.

Then the alarm sounded.

Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the Rod first, turning to face the guards streaming into the room, with guns. Very physical, visible guns. His heart was racing now, panic rising, palms sweating as he held the Rod out in front of him, hoping to every god he knew of that it would recognise him and do the magic thing.

This had seemed like a great idea until everyone else had a gun.

“Put down—" 

Marik swallowed, tapping into the Millennium Rod’s shadow magic, sending out a telepathic message to the guards: **_No. Surrender now, or I’ll make you._**

There were a couple of moments of silence. Then, at the back of the room, someone fired.

Marik swore under his breath, instinctively deflecting the bullet with the Rod, which emitted a flare of shadow magic as it absorbed the blow. He took a deep breath, concentrating, attempting to turn the guards into puppets en masse, feeling his energy drain and the Rod falter. _Okay, so that’s not an option. Shit._

 No one else had fired, since firing had been a really bad idea in a room full of invaluable, irreplaceable, millennia-old objects, and everyone else appeared to have gotten the memo. Marik didn’t dare move, though. The guard at the front of the room, whose jacket was emblazoned with stripes and badges, raised her gun. “Put your hands up.”

 Marik paused, then he did, appearing to comply. He held his breath — the guards didn’t realise that the Rod was a weapon. He wasn’t being asked to put it down. _Fine by me_.

 As the guards’ leader began to approach, Marik activated the Rod’s powers again, controlling the leader alone, stopping her in her tracks, her eyes going blank. Something tugged at Marik, deep in his chest. He really, _really_ hated doing this, but he couldn’t see another option.

 He had the leader turn around, facing the others — those who were closest immediately noticed a difference, making unsure, wary expressions. Marik used telepathy again. It was easier than yelling across the room, and probably more convincing, too. **_I have complete control over her. Let me take these seven items and leave peacefully, and no one will get hurt._**

 “Prove it! _How_ can you control her!” One of them took a step forward, gun raised.

 Marik hesitated, pushing down his guilt as the guards’ leader lifted her own gun to her head. (Marik kept her finger well away from the trigger.)

  ** _Take my word for it_. _Please._** _(I don’t want to hurt anyone…)_

Everyone took a step back. Guns were lowered, eyes averted as Marik swiped the rest of the millennium items out of the display. _I’m not a bad person, I’m not a bad person, I’m not a bad person…_

Then, quietly, he left. He relinquished his control over the leader of the guards, and one by one, as he passed each of them, they forgot everything that had happened.

***

 Underneath a star-spangled sky, a cow, a kite, and a falcon sat around a small pool in the middle of a desert. The cow’s long, gently curved horns glinted in the moonlight, her large, dark brown eyes deep as oceans. She stared into the pool. “Well.”

“Well,” the kite echoed,

There was silence for another few moments, then a cool breeze swept across the pool, causing the surface of the water to ripple and change. The falcon puffed out his feathers — there were scars down one side of his face, and the marks around his eyes were as black as kohl. He said a single word: “Fuck.”

The kite made a quiet churr of agreement, while the cow merely flicked her tail, saying, “We probably should have expected something like this, considering everything that happened last year.”

The kite nodded, sighing. “The rest of the Ennead’s in shambles. Everyone suspects _she_ was involved.”

The cow blinked at her, her eyes alight with mischief. “You speak of her with enough spite that you might as well be talking about your dear husband.”

The kite smiled slyly at the cow, fanning out her medium brown tail feathers, a note of humour in her voice as she spoke: “I certainly have... _strong reservations_ about my husband. But I don't think she's any worse — it's the opposite, really. I just wish she'd leave the mortal world alone. She causes nothing but trouble."

The cow’s ears twitched. “Still, she didn’t instigate _all_ of this, did he?”

“No — I heard from Father that it was all thanks to a mortal. _She_ just latched onto the opportunity and made things a little worse,” the falcon said irritably. 

The kite nodded. “The mortal had been plotting this for a long time, too.”

 “And what of the Items?” the cow asked.

“They’re being excavated by some other mortals. They don’t fully understand what they’re capable of.”

The cow blinked thoughtfully. “And no one else has intervened?” 

The kite’s eyes widened, seeing that the cow was getting an idea. “No, you mustn’t-”

The pool bubbled. 

The falcon glared at the cow. “What did you do?”

The cow smiled. “Every action should have an equal opposite reaction. _She_ acted. I neutralised what he did. Surely one of us intervening is the best way to uphold Ma’at, to keep everything balanced?”

“You didn’t consult the council,” the kite said quietly, clearly torn.

 “Would’ve taken too long,” the cow replied, flicking her tail dismissively.

“But the Ennead—”

“—will get over it.”

The falcon didn’t look so sure. “None of us have actively intervened for centuries.”

The cow swallowed. “Things change.” 

“We don’t.”

“Perhaps we should,” she rumbled, her eyes shining with wisdom. “After all, if I always complied with our superiors’ wishes, the world would be very different.”

The falcon narrowed his eyes. “Still, that was hasty.”

“I had to trust my instinct. None of us want this situation to get any more dire. We could lose this battle yet.”

 The two avians exchanged a glance. The kite spoke: “Surely not, all of us working against him?”

The cow stood up, kicking up dust as she moved, beginning to move off, shooting the pair of raptors an even, self-assured look as she glanced back over her shoulder. “Perhaps. But so far, I’m the only one who’s doing anything.”


	2. Chapter One: Dragged Down To The Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kioru Tadako and Yugi Mutou duel and things go badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapters average out at 2500 words, she said. I hope they’re not too short, she said. XD
> 
> Apologies about inaccuracies with the duel! I know there are a few — any mistakes that are still there are ones I found after I started writing it (as opposed to when I was creating an outline for it, something which I’ve spent at least twelve hours on in total, including seven hours straight, why do I do this to myself), and I _wasn’t_ going to go back and fix mistakes that happened earlier in the duel, in particular, since that would mean almost a complete do-over of the whole experience. So yeah, apologies to card game devotees who notice my slip-ups as I go, I’ve played my fair share of YGOPro and Duel Links, but if this experience taught me anything, it’s that _nothing_ can teach you the rules of duel monsters better than writing a duel from scratch. _Nothing_.
> 
> So yeah, having written this duel, 10/10 would recommend KILLING YOURSELF BEFORE YOU HAVE THE CHANCE TO TRAVEL THIS DARK DARK PATH
> 
> (I’m kidding <3)
> 
> But yeah, it was a traumatic time, getting the duel to work out the way I wanted it to XD Good thing my outline has like, six more of these in it! :’)
> 
> Also thank you so much @catfishofold for beta reading this, and giving me a much needed reminder to show more and tell less and include more descriptions of physical sensations and things and also have a consistent mood and so many things XD

Kioru Tadako was about to die.

He didn’t deserve to die. He was young — eighteen. He was kind, easy-going, friendly, and the kind of person who always saw the best in people. He really liked puppies. He  _ had  _ a puppy. He was a good duelist too, and, unlike most duelists, he was also a good loser. In any other situation, he would have been the hero; the guy who sacrificed himself for others, and tried to defend those who couldn’t defend themselves. He was, by all accounts, a paragon. He didn’t deserve to die. He’d just ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He’d ended up in a dueling stadium, opposite Yugi Mutou.

They’d both made it to the semi-finals of a regional competition — one that had been fairly low-profile, until Yugi had entered it. The crowd of over 6000 hyped teenagers and young adults roared, making his head reel and his heartbeat pound in his ears, but with a few deep breaths every so often, he was able to block it out. He’d never been in arena this big before — he was only here because he was duelling Yugi, and he knew most of the crowd was supporting him, but some of them…some of those cheers were for him. His hands shook as he walked towards the centre of the arena, adrenaline rushing through him - he did what he could to expel his pent-up energy, channeling it into fiddling with the rubber band on his wrist and adjusting his shirt as Yugi Mutou strode calmly towards him, ready to do the customary 'rock-paper-scissors' to determine who would get the first move. 

Yugi smiled, friendly and open. Tadako smiled back. Wordlessly, they both extended their right fists, shaking them three times. Two papers.

They went again.  _ Yugi might think I'm going to do paper again to throw him off, so he'll pick scissors, so I'll pick rock- _

Two rocks. (Yugi grinned, amused.)

They went again.  _ I'll just do scissors, it's too obvious, he'll assume I'm going for something else- _

Tadako picked scissors and Yugi picked rock.

"I'll go second," Yugi said quickly. “Oh, nice shirt, by the way!” He added, glancing at Tadako's graphic tee, which had the card art of ‘Book of Moon’ printed on the front.

Tadako swallowed, giving a small nod, his heart racing. (He knew he was gay, but he hadn’t realised he was  _ this  _ gay.) “T-thank you!”

Then they both walked to their respective podiums. Tadako’s head was reeling. He should have been thinking about his strategy - about Yugi's strategy, and how to counter it. He should have been thinking about which cards he might draw, and which combinations would be effective. But right now, one thought dominated the rest:

_ Yugi Goddamn Mutou complimented my shirt. And he’s so cute. Holy shit. Is this even real. _

It didn’t  _ feel  _ real. This was the semi-final of a regional tournament, which wouldn’t normally be a big deal, aside from the fact that he was dueling Yugi Mutou, who’d just come back from a tournament in Germany.  _ Yugi Fricken Mutou _ .

Still, the media hype wasn’t  _ just  _ about Yugi. Tadako had also been a trailblazer of sorts in his region, rapidly seeing a lot of success over the course of a few months. He’d been named as one of Industrial Illusions’ five up-and-coming duellists of the year, so there were probably a few people who were eager to see how he’d do on a bigger stage, with more pressure, against a bigger foe. (Bigger in everything by stature, anyway.)

He was fairly sure he would lose, but he was going to make sure he lost with  _ style.  _ He might not beat Yugi, but he’d put up a good fight. And he would focus on the card game, rather than Yugi’s perfectly quaffed hair. His hair was distracting on a number of levels.

Then the duel began, and he put his low-key crush out of his mind. He had a card game to lose.

Both duelists drew five cards, then examined their hands: Tadako had The Agent of Creation - Venus (4/1600/0), Solemn Wishes, Terraforming, Queen of Fate - Eternia (8/2400/2000), and Enemy Controller. Something inside him melted with relief.  _ A decent hand, thank God…Eternia is powerful, but has some really specific summoning conditions — she needs to be tribute summoned with three Fairy type monsters…what if I just… _

“I make my first move! First, I activate the spell card Terraforming!” he declared, placing the spell card face up on the field. “With this card, I can search for a field spell in my deck. I then activate the field spell, Sanctuary in the Sky! As long as this card is on the field, when a monster with the Fairy attribute participates in battle, the owner of that monster doesn’t take any damage from that battle.”

Tadako looked across the field, seeing Yugi incline his head, his eyes giving away nothing, though his demeanour was still friendly. Tadako grinned as he continued. “Then, I normal summon Agent of Creation - Venus, and activate it’s effect, paying 500 life points to special summon Mystical Shine Ball (4/500/500) in defence mode. Finally, I set two cards face-down, and end my turn,” he finished, setting Enemy Controller and Solemn Wishes.  _ Yugi can only normal summon one monster next turn, so I’ll just hope he only ends up with one monster on the field. When he attacks, I’ll change his monster to defence mode with Enemy Controller, negating the attack. Then, on my next turn, I’ll special summon another Mystical Shine Ball with Venus, and tribute all three of my monsters to summon Eternia, and Solemn Wishes will means I can get back the life points I’m losing by activating Venus’s effect… _

“My turn!”

Yugi drew a card, taking a moment to look at it, smiling softly as the crowd roared, then launching into his main phase. “I summon Magical Exemplar (4/1700/1400) in attack mode. Each time a spell card is activated, she gains two spell counters. I also set two card face down on the field. Magical Exemplar, attack Venus—”

“Not so fast!” Tadako interrupted. “I activate Enemy Controller, swapping Magical Exemplar to face up defence position—”

Yugi grinned. “Nice try, but I activate both of my face down cards!”

Tadako swallowed.  _ Oh no. _

“First, I activate Appropriate, a continuous trap card — as long as Appropriate is on the field, for every card that you draw outside of your draw phase, I also draw two cards! Second, I activate Dark Bribe — I can activate this card when you activate a spell or a trap. You draw one card—”

Tadako did, drawing Condemned Maiden (4/100/2000).  _ Good — her defence stat is nice and high, I can use her to stall if I need to… _

“—and I negate your trap. But, because of Appropriate, I also draw two cards,” Yugi said, adding two more cards to his hand. “With Enemy Controller negated, Venus is destroyed!”

Tadako narrowed his eyes as his monster evaporated from the field, swallowing. He couldn’t use her effect to get more Mystical Shine Balls onto the field, and summon Eternia. “Still, I don’t lose any Life Points, due to the effect of Sanctuary in the Sky.”

Yugi inclined his head. “True. I end my turn.”

“Wait! Before your end phase is complete, I activate a continuous trap, Solemn Wishes! Every time I draw a card, I gain 500 life points. Now that that’s done, it’s my turn — I draw!”

He turned his new card over to see what it was, his eyes flicking to his life points (8500 - 500 more than what he and Yugi had both started at) as Solemn Wishes activated, and the new card was Agent of Force - Mars (3/0/0). He smiled, and reached for Condemned Maiden (4/100/2000), the card he had drawn during Yugi’s turn. “I set a monster face down, then ends my turn.”

“Alright, I draw! I summon Silent Magician LV4 (4/1000/1000) in attack mode, and have her attack Mystical Shine Ball!”

Tadako gritted his teeth. Silent Magician was one of Yugi’s signature cards — he’d have to get her off the field as soon as possible. Yugi continued: “Then, Magical Exemplar (4/1700/0) attacks your face-down card!”

Tadako smiled. “Nice try, but the card you attacked was Condemned Maiden, who has 2000 defence points! She remains face up on the field, and you lose 300 life points.”

Yugi nodded, flinching as his life points fell. A flicker of concern, as well as something else that Tadako couldn’t quite place, passed over his features, but it disappeared as soon as Tadako noticed. “Alright. I end my turn.”

Tadako paused, then drew, adding Negate Attack to his hand, his Life Points now at 9000 thanks to Solemn Wishes. After examining his hand, he glanced over at the field, to see Silent Magician LV4 had gained 500 attack. “Huh?”

Yugi smiled. “Every time you draw a card, Silent Magician LV4 gains a spell counter, and each spell counter gives her an additional 500 attack. When she gains five spell counters, I can level her up.”

Tadako swallowed. “Okay. I set a card face down, and end my turn,” he said, setting Negate Attack.

“My turn — I draw!” Yugi took a few moments to examine the field, then look at his own hand, before ploughing on. “I activate Pot of Duality, allowing me to look at the top three cards on my deck, add one of them to my hand, and put the other to back in any order.” He did this, and then continued: “I normal summon Summoner Monk (4/800/1600), who is changed to defence position thanks to its effect. I then activate Summoner Monk’s effect, discarding a spell card from my hand, and special summoning Sacred Crane (4/1600/400) from my deck. Thanks to Sacred Crane’s effect, I draw one more card.” He looked at his card, and then considered the field -- neither of his monsters had attack stats high enough to take down Condemned Maiden, with 2000 defence points. Recognising this, he ended his turn.

Tadako took a deep breath. “I draw!” he declared adding Cestus of Dalga to his hand, gaining another 500 life points, though Silent Magician LV4’s stats rose to 4/2000/1000 at the same time. 

The less experienced duelist’s eyes widened as he examined his hand, realising how good his cards were — The Agent of Force - Mars, and Cestus of Dalga. If Mars (3/0/0), whose attack and defence points were equal to the difference between his life points and Yugi’s, was equipped with the spell card Cestus of Dalga, which could only be equipped to Fairy monsters, and gave the equipped monster 500 more attack points, as well as granting the monster’s controller life points equal to the damage the equipped monster inflicted, then every time he gained life points through Cestus of Dalga’s effect, Mars’s attack points would rise even further. And combined with Solemn Wishes and Sanctuary in the Sky, that could be absolutely  _ devastating _ .

Without hesitating any longer, he ploughed into his main phase. “I summon The Agent of Force - Mars (3/1800/1800), whose attack points are based on how much higher my Life Points are compared to yours! Then, I equip Mars with the spell card Cestus of Dalga, adding an additional 500 points to his attack, bringing it to 2300! Mars, attack Silent Magician LV4 (4/2000/1000)!”

Yugi gritted his teeth as his monster was destroyed, losing 300 life points. Tadako grinned as a cloud of virtual dust kicked up around them, hearing the distinctive beeping noise signalling Yugi’s life points dropping, and his own rising, thanks to Cestus of Dalga’s effect. As the dust cleared, Yugi stared at Mars, who’s attack and defence had risen. 2900/2400. “What the—?”

Tadako couldn’t help but be a little smug. “You lost 300 life points. Thanks to Cestus of Dalga, I gained 300 life points. Then, consequently, with another 800 points separating your life points from mine, Mars’s attack rose by 800 points!”

He could hear gasps and murmurs from the crowd; “No way!”

“It’s attack is nearly as high as the Blue Eyes White Dragon…”

“Is Yugi going to lose?”

Tadako took a deep breath, looking around, taking in the crowd’s excitement, realising he was grinning madly. He felt a thrill of excitement surge through his chest.  _ Answer to that, Yugi!  _ “With that, I end my turn!”

Yugi eyed Mars, and then smiled. “Bring it on, Kioru-kun! I draw!”

Tadako felt colour rush to his cheeks.  _ HolyshitthekingofgamesjustcalledmekiorukunhowdoIeven- _

“I activate Magical Exemplar’s effect — see, she’s been accumulating spell counters for a while now, meaning I can remove four spell counters, and special summon a Spellcaster-type monster from my graveyard, whose level is equal to the number of spell counters I removed. I special summon Silent Magician LV4 (4/1000/1000), then, I activate the spell card I just drew, Level Up!”

His eyes widened.  _ Ohwaitshithe’sgoingtousethatonsilentmagicianisn’the- _

“Do I need to explain, or is the card name self-explanatory?”

Tadako swallowed. “I think I’ve got it.”

Yugi smiled. “Alright! I send Silent Magician LV4 from the field to the graveyard, and special summon Silent Magician LV8 (8/3500/1000)!”

Tadako realised his heart was pounding, panic clouding his judgement. He glanced back a his side of the field, taking a deep breath, realising everything was fine.  _ I still have Negate Attack, and Mars will gain 500 attack on my next draw phase. Then I can attack Sacred Crane, which will make the difference between our life points even larger… _

Yugi continued: “Then, I set two cards face down, and activate the equip spell, Mage Power! A monster equipped with mage power gains 500 attack for every trap or spell card the user controls, regardless of whether it’s face-up or set — I control four spell or trap cards, meaning the equipped monster gains 2000 attack points!”

_ No! That means— _

“I equip Mage Power to Silent Magician LV8 (5500/1000)!”

Tadako’s eyes widened as the white mage loomed over Mars.  _ I still have Negate Attack, this is fine, this is fine… _

“Now, Silent Magician, attack Mars (3/2900/2300)!”

“Wait! I activate my trap card, Negate Attack! Which means that…” Tadako trailed off, smiling sheepishly. “Y’know, probably pretty self explanatory.”

Yugi smiled, nodding, eyeing Mars, whose attack points were higher than either of his other monsters. “Alright. I end my turn.”

Tadako narrowed his eyes. “My turn — I draw!”

He balled his hands into fists, trying to stop them from shaking, taking another deep breath.  _ You can do this Tadako. Stay calm. _

He drew, gained 500 life points (bringing his total to 10300), checked that Mars’s attack and defence had also risen by 500 points, then looked at his new card: The Agent of Mystery - Earth (4/1000/800). Queen of Fate - Eternia was still in his hand, but he had no way to summon it.  _ That’s okay. I can work with this. _

“I normal summon The Agent of Mystery - Earth! While The Sanctuary in the Sky is on the field, I can add the monster card Master Hyperion from my deck to my hand.” Master Hyperion (8/2700/2100) was a good card, and easy to summon, with Venus in his graveyard. He eyed Yugi’s monsters.  _ I just need to inflict some damage… _

“Mars (3/3400/2900), attack Sacred Crane (4/1600/400)!”

Yugi revealed one of his face down cards. “Nice try, but I activate Waboku! This turn, I take no damage from your monsters, and my monsters cannot be destroyed!”

Tadako bit his lip.  _ Shit! If I don’t get some damage in, Silent Magician will destroy Mars next turn. _

The trap card, Waboku, was sent to the graveyard, and Silent Magician LV8’s attack fell to 5000 — which was good, but hardly solved his problem. Tadako anxiously examined the field, and his hand. He had no set cards - only Solemn Wishes, and the field spell, Sanctuary in the Sky, which meant that as long as he controlled Fairy-type monsters, he wouldn’t take any damage from battles involving them. That didn’t stop them from being destroyed. He gritted his teeth. There was nothing he could do. “I end my turn…”

“I draw!” As Yugi looked at his new card, a soft, fond smile appeared on his face. Then he became focused again, going on with his turn. “I activate one of my face down cards, Dark World Dealings! Each of us draw one card, and then discard one, but thanks to Appropriate, I draw an additional two.”

Tadako nodded, drawing a card, his life points rising to 10800, and Mars’s attack and defence rising to 3900/3400 as well. He looked at his new card.  _ Spirit of the Breeze…that’ll be helpful,  _ he thought. _ She has a good effect. _ He discarded Eternia - with no way to summon her, she wasn’t going to be very useful.

Yugi continued: “Then, I activate Magical Exemplar’s effect again, removing 8 spell counters from her, and summoning another Silent Magician LV8 (8/3500/1000) from the graveyard!”

_ What?! Shit, that must’ve been the card he just discarded… _

“And finally, I tribute Sacred Crane and Magical Exemplar in order to summon  _ Dark Magician!” _

* * *

A few months earlier pt. 1:

_ no. _

_ nonononononononono, oh no, oh osiris, I didn't ask for this _

_ w h  y _

* * *

Tadako couldn’t have possibly prepared himself for the roar of the crowd as Dark Magician (7/2500/2100) materialised on the field. He almost physically staggered, losing his balance slightly as it deafened him, but Yugi didn’t seem at all put off. He must’ve been used to it by now. As he adjusted to the increase in volume, it felt exhilarating — his heart rate increased, and he felt even more energetic and jittery than he had when the duel began. He grinned. _So this_ _is what a first class duel is really like!_

“I also set two more cards face down, meaning I have four spell or trap cards in my control again! Moving on to my battle phase—“

_ Oh wait, yeah, that’s right, I’m fucked _ , he thought, grimacing.

“Silent Magician LV8, equipped with Mage Power (8/5500/1000), attack Mars (3/3900/3400)!”

Tadako bit his tongue, helpless as his monsters were destroyed. Yugi’s other Silent Magician (8/3500/1000) destroyed Earth (4/1000/800), and Dark Magician (7/2500/2100) destroyed Condemned Maiden (4/100/2000). Tadako’s side of the field is empty, except for Sanctuary in the Sky and Solemn Wishes.  _ At least Yugi hasn’t used De-Spell or Mystical Space Typhoon or anything… _

“I draw!” Tadako said, looking at his hand: he now had Master Hyperion (8/2700/2100), Spirit of the Breeze (3/0/1800), and The Agent of Miracles - Jupiter (4/1800/1000). His face lit up — he could work with this. That was the thing about this deck — he liked it because it was versatile.

“I normal summon The Agent of Miracles - Jupiter (4/1800/1000), and, by banishing The Agent of Creation - Venus from the graveyard, I can also special summon Master Hyperion (8/2700/2100)!”  _ Both of whom have kick-ass effects _ , he added privately to himself.

“I activate Master Hyperion’s effect! Once per turn, I can banish one LIGHT Fairy-type monster from my graveyard, and then target one card on the field, destroying that target. Banishing Mystical Shine Ball, I target Silent Magician LV8, equipped with Mage Power!”

Yugi’s eyes widened with legitimate shock and concern, and the crowd roared. Tadako felt a little bad, but also not really. “And that’s not all! As long as Sanctuary in the Sky is on the field, I can activate the effect twice per turn! _ I banish The Agent of Force - Mars from my graveyard, and destroy your other Silent Magician!” _

Adrenaline rushed through him as the two holograms disintegrated.  _ Holy shit. I-I’m actually winning against the King of Games. For the moment anyway, but— wow. Wow. _

“Then, I activate Jupiter’s effect! Once per turn, I can remove from play one Agent monster in my graveyard, and select one face-up LIGHT Fairy-Type monster I control, giving it an additional 800 attack points until the end phase — I remove The Agent of Mystery - Earth from play, and increase Master Hyperion’s attack points by 800. Now, Master Hyperion (8/3500/2100), attack Dark Magician (7/2500/2100)!”

Yugi staggered as Dark Magician was destroyed, but Tadako continued. “Now, Jupiter (4/1800/1000)! Attack Yugi’s life points directly!”

Yugi stumbled as he absorbed the attack, gritting his teeth. As his life points dropped, he took a couple of seconds to recover, looking at Tadako, his eyes confused, uncertain, almost carrying a hint of betrayal. Tadako blinked, unsure of what he’d done. 

Yugi stood up slowly, everything about his posture different. He was suddenly wary, looking over his shoulder, as though he were looking for an out. The sudden shift in mood made the hair on Tadako’s neck rise slightly, chilling him to the bone. Something had happened when Yugi had taken damage. But Tadako didn’t know what.

But then Yugi’s fearful expression melted away. Tadako frowned.  _ I guess I just imagined it…? _

Yugi looked at his life points, which now sat at 4600, and then took a deep breath. “I draw!”

Tadako eyed him carefully. No, he hadn’t been imagining it. Everything about him was more serious, more grave, as though he was suddenly becoming aware a new set of stakes. Each movement was more careful, more rigid. Tadako swallowed hard. This wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right.

Yugi continued with his turn: “I summon Silent Paladin (4/500/1500) in attack mode. When this card is normal summoned, I can add one Silent Magician LV4 to my hand.”

There was silence for a few moments. Yugi and Tadako eyed each other, suddenly more serious. Tadako didn’t know why, yet Yugi seemed as if he knew too much. Yugi stared at Tadako, and Tadako wasn’t sure whether it was an apology or an accusation. Then, Yugi closed his eyes, taking one more deep breath. He murmured quietly, “I’m sure it was nothing…”

Tadako didn’t know who Yugi was trying to reassure.

Yugi went on: “Then, I activate one of my set card, Swords of Revealing Light, meaning your monsters can’t attack for three turns. Then I end my turn.”

Tadako gazed searchingly at Yugi, whose expression was now unreadable. Swords of Revealing Light was incredibly inconvenient, but it paled in significance compared to whatever had just happened with Yugi. 

_ Focus on the duel. It probably  _ was  _ nothing. Yugi looks like he knows what’s going on, and he’s still duelling. I should too. I trust him. _

He swallowed, taking a deep breath. “I-I draw!”

He added another card to his hand — The Agent of Wisdom - Mercury (4/0/1700) — and continued on with his move. His eyes brightened — with an Agent card now in his hand, he could activate Jupiter’s other effect, bringing back Mars. He hesitated for a moment — if something had happened, then continuing as though everything was normal probably wasn’t the smartest idea. 

_ But nothing happened, so it’s fine _ , he told himself, pushing back his doubt.

“I summon Spirit of the Breeze (3/0/1800)! As long as this card remains in face-up attack position on my side of the field, I increase my life points by 1000 points during each of my standby phases. Next, I activate Hyperion’s effect, banishing Queen of Fate - Eternia from my graveyard, and destroying Silent Paladin! Then, as Sanctuary in the Sky is still on the field, I can activate Jupiter’s second effect! I can discard an Agent monster from my hand, and special summon one of my banished monsters!”

Yugi’s expression went from ‘ _ oh boy _ ’ to ‘ _ oh fuck _ ’. 

“I discard The Agent of Wisdom - Mercury, and resurrect one of the monsters I’ve removed from play!  _ Return, The Agent of Force - Mars!” _

Level: 3. Attack: 7200. Defence: 7200.

The crowd went insane, roaring in Tadako’s ears. Yugi stared at the three star monster, legitimate fear on his face.

“Still, I can’t attack this turn,” Tadako continued, “thanks to Swords of Revealing Light. But with Solemn Wishes and Spirit on the Breeze both on the field, I’ll continue to gain life points, and Mars’s attack will continue to increase. So, I end my turn.”

Yugi gritted his teeth, new determination on his face. “I draw, then I summon Silent Magician LV4 (4/1000/1000)! Then, I tribute Silent Magician LV4 to special summon Silent Magician (4/1500/100), which can only be summoned by tributing another Spellcaster type monster. She has a variety of different effects, but I only intend to use one. Silent Magician (4/1500/100), attack Jupiter (4/1800/1000)!”

“What?  _ Why?” _

An odd look passed over Yugi’s features again as he took 300 points of damage (meaning Mars’s attack and defence rose to 7500), but he smiled once the damage calculation was done. “Because when Silent Magician is sent to the graveyard, I can special summon one Silent Magician LV8 from my hand or Deck!”

Tadako’s eyes widened with shock, then he remembered he had a monster with 7500 attack. He was fine. Everything was fine. Calm down.

“Silent Magician LV8 (8/3500/1000), destroy Master Hyperion (8/2700/2100)!”

Tadako’s shoulders slumped as his monster was sent to the graveyard.  _ Guess I can’t abuse his effect anymore _ . “I don’t take any damage because of Sanctuary in the Sky.”

Yugi nodded. “True. I set a card face down, then end my turn.”

Tadako nodded, and drew, gaining 500 life points, and a new card, Hanewata (1/200/300) — if any of Yugi’s monsters dealt him any effect damage, he could discard Hanewata from his hand and make that 0. Nice. The duel then moved into the standby phase, where, Tadako’s life points rose another 1000 points thanks to Spirit of the Breeze’s effect. All up, his life points sat at 13300, and Mars’s attack and defence had reached 9000.

Looking at his cards, there wasn’t a lot that he could do — Hanewata was more useful in his hand then on the field, and he couldn’t attack. “I don’t have any moves to make. I end my turn.”

Swords of Revealing Light’s second turn was over.

Yugi nodded. “I draw, and then set a card face down. Now, Silent Magician LV8 (8/3500/100), attack Jupiter (4/1800/1000)!”

Jupiter disintegrated, and Tadako drew without taking any damage, thanks to Sanctuary in the Sky. He looked at his new card.  _ Burial from a Different Dimension…would’ve been good if Jupiter or Hyperion were still on the field. Nevermind. _

Then he looked over at Mars. 3/10500/105000. A deafening roar went up from the crowd: “ _ IT’S OVER NINE-THOUSAAAAAND!” _

Tadako smiled, then laughed. Yugi looked slightly ill. Tadako nodded to him. “I still have no moves to make. I end my turn.”

As his end phase finished, Swords of Revealing Light disappeared from the field. He could attack on his next turn.

Yugi drew, and then smiled. “I normal summon Kuriboh (1/300/200), in face-up attack position!”

Tadako grinned. Of  _ course  _ Yugi summoned Kuriboh in face-up attack position. And of  _ course  _ Kuriboh got the loudest cheer yet, almost deafening him.

“Now, Kuriboh, attack Spirit of the Breeze (3/0/1800)!”

His monster disappeared from the field, but at this point it didn’t matter. Mars had 10500 attack points, Tadako had 14800 life points, Yugi had only 4300 life points, and Tadako was  _ this close  _ to beating the King of Games. Yugi ended his turn, and Tadako drew without hesitation. “It’s my turn — I draw!”

Splendid Venus (8/2800/2400), as well as another 500 life points, and 500 attack points to Mars. Splendid Venus was really nice card, but one he couldn’t summon right now. This didn’t really matter, though. He smiled, and moved straight to his battle phase. “It’s over, Yugi! Mars (3/11000/11000)!  _ Attack Kuriboh (1/300/200)!” _

“ _ No! I activate Magic Cylinder!” _

Then things started to go wrong.

* * *

A few months earlier pt. 2:

_ wait what _

_ wait _

_ what??? _

_...oh motherFU- _

* * *

Tadako’s life points dropped by 11000 points all at once — Yugi’s trap card effectively redirected the attack onto him. His vision darkened around the edges, and he staggered backwards, losing his footing, everything spinning, feeling nauseous. He felt as though the life was literally being drained out of him,  _ ripped  _ from him with every beep of his duel disk. Suddenly he realised the ground was rushing towards him, and he outstretched his hands to catch himself, sweat beading on his forehead, feeling as though he was being cast into a dark void.

Then there was a voice — a light. “ _ Kioru!  _ Kio- Tadako, can you hear me?”

He looked up, feeling as though he might throw up at any moment. Yugi was crouched in front of him, (at least, Tadako was pretty sure he was crouching, since everything was swaying a lot,) gazing at him anxiously, his striking red eyes round with concern. “Tadako, we can stop the duel. I’ll tell them to stop—”

“N-no,” he said weakly, chest heaving. “I—”

“Tadako—”

Tadako took a deep breath, steadying himself, then he placed his hand on Yugi’s shoulder, not really thinking, using the King of Games to prop himself up, back on his feet. “I want to see this through.”

Yugi stood up, and placed one hand on his shoulder. “No, Kioru, you don’t have to—”

“I—” he broke off, coughing. “No, I want to—”

“Listen to me, something’s  _ wrong  _ with this duel, you don’t know what you’re—”

“I  _ end my turn!" _ He declared, taking a couple of steps back. He was feeling better with every passing second, his head clearing. “I’m fine!”  _ It’s nothing. That was nothing. Maybe…it’s because I didn’t have breakfast this morning. Or maybe it’s part of this fancy stadium — some kind of extension of the holograms. _

He knew he was making excuses. But he wasn’t going to surrender. He didn’t want Yugi to surrender, either. He wanted to  _ duel  _ the King of Games, and he wanted to finish it.

He looked at his life points. 4300. They were the same as Yugi’s. Meaning Mars’s stats were 3/0/0.

Yugi stood opposite him, his gaze unreadable. He looked conflicted, scared, confused; all of this he mostly masked, but it was there, just underneath the surface. He swallowed hard, looking away, at his cards. “I draw.”

Yugi looked at his new card for a very long time. 

“I activate the card that I just drew — monster reborn.” His eyes shone with emotion, shock, and resolve. His voice was quiet, rapidly increasing in volume and intensity as he continued: “And I special summon a monster from my graveyard -  _ Dark Magician (7/2500/2100)!” _

Tadako’s heart skipped a beat as Dark Magician materialised for a second time. He could faintly hear the crowd cheering again, but it sounded muted, as though he was underwater. All he could hear properly was Yugi, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Kuriboh (1/300/200), attack Mars (3/0/0)!”

Mars disappeared from the field.  _ R.I.P. _ , Tadako thought warily, still feeling as though he might throw up.

Yugi looked at Tadako for a long time, before continuing. “Now! Dark Magician (7/2500/2100), attack his life points directly!” (His voice was strong, and firm, but his eyes were bright with worry.)

Tadako grunted, losing his footing as he absorbed the impact, his visioning tunnelling again, nausea returning. His life points fell to 1800. He remained bent over for a few moments, his hands resting on his knees, everything turning — the stadium, and his stomach. After a few moments, the feeling receded, more quickly than it had the first time, and he stood back up, giving Yugi a weak thumbs up.

The look Yugi returned was one of pure anguish. He said quietly, his thick with emotion, “I’m sorry. I’ll fix this, I promise.”

_ Wait, what? _

Yugi took a deep breath. “SILENT MAGICIAN LV8 (8/3500/1000),  _ ATTACK HIS LIFE POINTS DIRECTLY! _ ”

Burning white light filled his vision Yugi’s monster charged her attack. A blazing white ball rushed towards him, and instinctively he lifted his arm in front of his face, trying to block the blow with his duel disk, but to no avail. The attack slammed into him, and he stumbled back, adrenaline rushing through his veins, heart thudding hard in his chest. He lost his balance, falling, and then, suddenly, he felt incredibly cold, as though his life was literally being drained from his veins. Fear consumed him, his ears ringing, chills wracking his body, and he clutched at his chest — not for his heart, but for his soul. 

_ N-no, why _ —

The dark tunnel returned, devouring his entire being, and then he became limp, blacking out.

Permanently.

* * *

A few months earlier pt. 3:

_ … _

_ …yES _

* * *

“Kioru-san?”

A young girl, around fifteen, looked up as a dark figure entered the room. Her sleek black hair shone in the cold blue light, reaching past the small of her back. She looked as broken as she felt. “ _ No. _ ” Her voice was dull, hollow.

“Kioru—”

“ _ NO!”  _ she screeched, standing up, glaring at the other figure. “I know what you’re going to tell me, and I don’t want to hear it! I—” she broke off, collapsing back into her chair, her breath coming in short, rough gasps, her vision blurring. “I don’t want to hear you say it. I—”

“Kio—”

“I  _ know,”  _ she repeated, almost angrily, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Y-you came in here looking all solemn and tense, you don’t w- _ want  _ to tell me. And I don’t want to hear it. W-we both win.”

There was a long pause. Too long. The other figure nodded. “Okay. I’ll leave you alone to—”

“ _ Don’t  _ say it.”  _ Don’t say ‘grieve’… _

The door closed with a dull kind of finality. Kioru Akira shattered into a thousand pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes in the duel (that I'm aware of):  
> \- Yugi activates two trap cards the turn he sets them (as part of a chain) (turn 2). Since this was so early on, I just couldn't be stuffed to change the whole thing. Seriously, without those traps, the duel would have gone very differently.  
> \- I completely forgot about Mars's first effect. He shouldn't be affected by spell cards. At all. (I realised this as I started actually writing, and the duel was already outlined, and again, wasn't about to re-write the entire duel. Sorry XD)  
> \- Turn 10: Yugi special summons Silent Magician LV8 through Magical Exemplar's effect, but Silent Magician LV8's very specific summoning conditions meant he shouldn't have been able to. By the time I realised most of the duel was written and I just, nope. Wasn't fixing it. I was done XD
> 
> Let me know if you spotted any more! (At one point Yugi had a random extra card in his hand and I can't remember whether I fixed it or not lmao)
> 
> But yeah, spoopy :3


	3. Chapter Two: Take Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik decides he would make a great detective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last week I was like "I'm going to update Not Guilty on Marik's birthday!!" Since he's the protagonist and all.
> 
> Yesterday (the 23rd in Australia) at exactly 10:08pm I was like "oh shit I still haven't finished the chapter" (I had like 1500+ more words to write XD)
> 
> I finished it at 1:15am and edited it the next day, today, Christmas Eve, but it's still the 23rd in America so I'm saying this still counts, I was totally on time ;)
> 
> Happy Birthday Marik!! And Merry Christmas everyone~

_BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT_

Everything was pitch dark, save for the harsh, cold, blue light radiating from Marik’s phone as a notification came in. The light from the face-up Samsung Galaxy illuminated the ancient stone walls, revealing worn hieroglyphs, age-old carvings, and unlit torches. Marik was in the tombs. Home, he supposed, though he didn’t feel any fondness for the place. It was simply somewhere he could stay for free in the wake of the museum heist. He had nowhere better to go.

_BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT_

He jerked awake. His phone was making an unholy, godawful noise, vibrating on the hard stone floor. He winced — that noise, in his opinion, was the closest that humanity could ever get to knowing what hell was like.

_BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT_

Marik frowned as his phone went off a third time, sitting up stiffly. If someone was texting him, it would be Ishizu, Rishid, or Ryou, and he didn’t have any reason to expect a flood of messages like this from any of them, nor were his emails quite that insistent.

_BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT_

Wearily, he reached for his phone, swiping it off the floor, and then bringing his arm back under his doona, where it was warm, and just felt _safer_. He unlocked his phone, instantly regretting this decision as the light from the screen blinded him. He looked away, getting used to the sudden brightness, and then glanced back at it, checking the time, rubbing his eyes. _5:30am. What even…_

He looked down at his notifications, freezing up.

_EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD DUEL MONSTERS TOURNAMENT SEMI-FINALIST KIORU TADAKO DEAD FOLLOWING DUEL WITH YUGI MUTOU_

Marik froze, his blood running cold. He suddenly became aware of his heart thudding hard in his chest, pounding against his sternum. He re-read the text a few times, realising it came from the News app. _But— how…_

He looked at the next one. The Update: _DUELING TRAGEDY: VIRTUAL REALITY TOO REAL FOR KIORU TADAKO_

_It’s not virtual reality, it’s a simulation_ , Marik thought numbly. That was all he could manage to think. More news stories continued to flood in.

International Card Watch: _SENT TO THE GRAVEYARD: SEMI-FINALIST DIES PLAYING DUEL MONSTERS IN DOMINO CITY REGIONAL TOURNAMENT_

Duel News Network: _KIORU TADAKO’S LIFE POINTS HIT ZERO, PERMANENTLY: DM COMMUNITY IN SHOCK FOLLOWING TRAGEDY IN DOMINO CITY_

Half a dozen messages from different news sources whose apps he’d downloaded, all telling him the same thing. He swiped his finger across the screen, unlocking his phone (6762 — ‘MROD’ — he’d set it a long time ago and didn’t really think about the word making up the password anymore), tapping on the notification from Duel News Network, which was, in his opinion, the most reliable source for duel monsters related things. The article read:

‘ _Following an epic showdown between Yugi Mutou, the ‘King of Games’, and Kioru Tadako, one of Industrial Illusions’ five up-and-coming duelists for this year, Tadako lost not only the duel, but his life. The duel commenced at 11:30am in Domino City this morning, and ended just after 12:00pm. At this point, Kioru collapsed — he had already keeled over once in the duel, when taking 11000 points of damage.’_

Marik’s eyes widened. _11000 points of damage_. “How even…”

_‘Doctors were on the scene already in case this first incident was due to a health condition, but when the duel ended, by the time they reached him, it was too late. The exact cause of Kioru’s death has not yet been identified — while doctors on the scene suspect the cause was cardiac arrest, an autopsy has not yet been conducted._

_Yugi Mutou, immediately following the duel, left the scene quickly, very distressed. Duel News Network got the following statement from him when Kioru’s status was confirmed: “I’m not sure why this has happened — I- It’s horrible, and my sincerest sympathy goes to Kioru’s family. It was an honour to duel him.”_

_Mutou is expected to appear at a press conference tomorrow morning.’_

Marik stared blankly at the screen, and then locked his phone, letting it fall onto the bed with a muffled plop. “Cardiac arrest, my ass…”

The duel had to have been a shadow game. There was no other plausible explanation. Yet all of the Millennium Items were with him, in Egypt, on a table, just a few feet away. He stared at them for a long time — all seven were untouched. It had been a week since he’d stolen them from the museum, and since then, everything had been quiet. He’d tried using the Rod a few times, and it still responded to him, for the most part — occasionally he would have to put in more effort than usual to get it to do what he wanted, and he hadn’t tried controlling a large group of people since the heist, but otherwise, everything with it was normal. He’d suspected that with a bit more practise, he’d be just as proficient with it as he had been two years ago.

But that wasn’t important right now.

He stood up, pacing, running his hands through his silky blonde hair. Someone was _dead_. Someone had died playing duel monsters, for the first time in— now that he thought about it, he didn’t recall that _ever_ happening before. There had been a lot of close calls, but to his knowledge, no fatalities. And Kioru had been playing _Yugi_.

_Could the Pharaoh — Atem — be back?_

No. No, surely not — even if he was, his soul would, in all likelihood, be in the Millennium Puzzle, resting on the table beside him, and even then, _why_ would Atem start a shadow game? Why _now?_ And why _him_ ** _—_** why Kioru Tadako?

It made more sense for Yugi to be the target of that kind of attack. Perhaps whoever started the shadow game thought Yugi would lose — but who had the _means_ to do it? How could anyone have started a shadow game while Marik had all of the Millennium Items?

He froze, as one possibility came to him. _Someone could’ve snuck in_.

His heart racing, he lit a torch, glanced once at the items, and then hurtled down the corridor, racing towards the entrance to check for any signs that someone had just strolled into the tombs while he was asleep. Being underground, there was only one entrance, and no windows, and, as Marik knew far too well, there was a device near the door, like an alarm — if the doors opened, it would go off. If someone had come in, then alarm wouldn’t be set properly. It had to be manually re-set each time it was sprung.

He sprinted through the maze of ancient stone, stopping suddenly at the entrance, a little short of breath. He held his torch closer to the alarm, scrutinising it for a few moments.

_It’s still set. No one’s come in—_

_BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT — BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT — BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT_

Marik frowned, placing the torch in a stand on the wall as his phone buzzed again, multiple times, in quick succession — it was a text this time, from Ryou.

_From: Ryou Bakura (the soft one)_

_(5:38) Have you heard_

_(5:38) What time is it there_

_(5:38) It’s really early isn’t it_

_(5:39) Oh well, text me when your up_

Marik replied immediately.

**(5:39) Hey I’m up I heard**

_(5:39) *you’re_

_(5:39) MARIK_

_(5:39) OH MY GOD_

**(5:39) Did you watch the duel??**

_(5:39) Yeah, the squad was all there_

_(5:39) Do you think it was a shadow game???_

**(5:39) Definitely**

**(5:39) What else could it have been?**

_(5:39) ^ true_

_(5:39) I just_

_(5:39) Oh my god_

_(5:40) I was just making sure you knew_

_(5:40) Where are the Millennium Items?_

**(5:40) I’ve got them — I’ve had them all week**

_(5:40) WHAT_

_(5:40) MARIK_

_(5:40) WHY DIDN’T YOU MENTION THIS_

**(5:40) Ryou I'm sorry but like we hadn’t talked???**

**(5:40) Honestly I just didn’t think to let you guys know**

**(5:40) I just wanted to keep them safe**

**(5:40) They were vulnerable before**

**(5:41) I haven’t done anything with them**

_(5:41) Okay_

**(5:41) I’m just checking no one broke into the tombs**

**(5:41) So far it doesn’t look like anyone else has used the items**

**(5:41) At least, no one else entered the tombs this morning**

_(5:41) How do you know????_

**(5:41) There’s an alarm thingy**

**(5:41) It hasn’t been set off so I’m pretty sure no one could have come in**

_(5:41) That’s good_

**(5:41) Btw where’s Yugi rn??**

_(5:41) Talking to the DCPB_

_(5:41) Domino City Police Bureau_

**(5:41) They’re getting involved??**

_(5:42) They may not know about shadow magic, but because of Kioru’s life points hitting zero and his death coinciding they’re pretty sure it wasn’t just coincidence_

_(5:42) They probably suspect Yugi did something, since he was Kioru’s opponent, but they have no proof_

**(5:42) Yugi won’t tell them anything, right? About shadow games?**

_(5:42) I’m sure he won’t_

_(5:42) He can just tell them the truth — that he didn’t do anything, and he doesn’t know anything_

**(5:42) It’s still odd though…wait, if you were there, did it feel like a shadow game? Did things go all dark and void-y?**

_(5:42) No, it felt like a regular duel, to everyone in the crowd. I can’t speak for Yugi though._

_(5:42) Or Kioru…_

_(5:42) I’m sorry, I really have to go now._

**(5:42) That’s okay**

**(5:43) Let me know if you learn anything else**

_(5:43) Will do, see you_

**(5:43) See you**

Normally he’d add a smiley face, but it didn’t seem appropriate.

Ryou was the only one of Yugi’s old group of friends that he regularly stayed in touch with. The others respected him, and saw him as an okay person now, but on the whole they kept their distance. However, Ryou’s talk of ghosts and spirits had piqued Marik’s interest, getting their friendship started a month or so after the Pharaoh’s soul returned to the afterlife. They weren’t the closest of friends, but they’d reached a point where conversation never ran dry or got awkward, which was quite an achievement, considering Marik had hardly interacted with people his age aside from Ishizu, and Ryou hadn’t gotten the opportunity to form meaningful connections and friendships with other people for most of his life, thanks to the Millennium Ring. If Ryou had to rank his friends for whatever reason, Marik was pretty sure Yugi and Co. would sit at the top, followed by him, but he was fine with that — after all, he _had_ been the one who came up with a plan to stab his arm and get him hospitalised, back in the day. (They laughed about that, though Ryou would laugh somewhat nervously.)

Marik locked his phone, putting it back in his pocket, grabbing the torch back off the wall and pacing back down the corridor, dissatisfied. He suddenly found he had a burning desire to know what happened — why Kioru was dead, and who was to blame. It couldn’t be an accident. Marik had seen too much to believe that Kioru just _happened_ to suffer a heart attack as his life points hit zero, which was undoubtedly what the story would be.

Kioru deserved better. He deserved the truth.

And Marik was among the only people truly qualified to look into this. No one else except for his family, the other faction of tomb keepers, and maybe Yugi, knew as much about shadow games, and the Millennium Items, as he did. If he didn’t investigate what had _really_ happened to Kioru, who would? Not the DCPB — even if they were onto the fact that Kioru’s death wasn’t an accident, they still didn’t have a clue.

For the past two years, he’d been drifting from place to place, unsure of what to do with himself.

_Maybe…maybe I can do_ this.

 

* * *

 

Twenty-four hours later, Marik was on a plane.

Ryou had managed to strike a deal with Mokuba Kaiba, of all people — Marik could stay in an abandoned office while he was in Japan, for free, as long as he was investigating into Kioru’s death. Mokuba had had a rough few months. With Seto in a coma (Marik suspected this was no ordinary coma, because of _course_ it wasn’t, though Mokuba wouldn’t give anyone any details), Mokuba had been running KaibaCorp, which was either completely legal (unlikely), or KaibaCorp was powerful enough that no one could do anything about it. And the younger Kaiba brother had been doing a good job too, as far as Marik could tell — shareholders were happy, and the company continued to turn a formidable profit. But every time Marik had seen him in news stories and the like, Mokuba’s eyes seemed dull and tired. On the outside, he mostly looked like he was doing okay, like he was coping just fine, but Marik suspected that on the inside, that wasn’t the case. Mokuba has just a kid, doing his best to be brave, growing up far too quickly. Marik never thought he’d feel as though he had anything in common with a child billionaire, nevermind something that personal — the need to grow up too fast. For Mokuba’s sake, Marik hoped that Seto would be okay — that he’d come back to them.

Boarding had been an ordeal and a half. This was his first time flying (every other time he’d gone to Japan he’d gone on a boat), and he had no idea what he was doing. He’d gotten up at around 1am in order to make sure he had plenty of time, then, once he’d arrived, he’d used the Rod to get a certain set of gold objects through security, and then spent a solid half hour trying to find the gate. He hadn’t thought that the airport would be particularly straightforward to navigate, but he also hadn’t expected a complete rabbit warren.

Once he’d found the gate (two newsagents and three new books later), everything had been much smoother. He’d pulled out the book that he’d been particularly keen to dig into; a collection of Norse myths, with one of those dust jackets that felt soft and clay-like at the same time. He was good with Egyptian mythology, but pretty rusty on everything else — it was something he’d been meaning to get on to for a while.

Now, having boarded, he leaned his head against the side of the plane, staring out the window. Both of the seats next to him were empty, so he’d taken the window seat, and was willing to brainwash people in order to keep it, if necessary. Anxiety churned in his stomach, but he forced himself to push it down. _Everything will be fine. Most planes don’t crash. This is okay._

He’d spent the rest of his time since deciding to go to Japan thinking, running potential Millennium Item users through his mind, trying to dissect how Tadako’s death — how his _murder —_ could have happened. A dozen different scenarios had run through his mind. Some of them involved Pegasus. Some of them involved the Pharaoh. Some of them involved the more demonic version of Bakura. But all of his half-baked theories fell apart if he thought about them for too long. At the end of the day, Marik had the items. No one had entered the tombs.

Nothing made sense.

He was pulled from his thoughts as the overhead speakers crackled, an announcement coming through. _“Ladies and Gentlemen, if we could have your attention for a few minutes for the safety demonstration.”_

Marik sat up straighter, peering over the seats in front of him as a flight attendant appeared in the middle of the aisle, her dark hair in a neat sock bun. As the plane’s engines began to hum, the pre-recorded announcement continued, while the flight attendant prepared for the demonstration. _“Every aircraft is different, so we recommend that you listen carefully to the following instructions. Today, you’re flying on a Boeing 737.”_

Most of the other passengers paid the announcement over loudspeaker little to no mind — some even looked bored, or exasperated. Marik glanced between them, bewildered, feeling that the whole thing sounded pretty serious. _Even if they’ve flown before, it literally just said every aircraft was different? What if we crash and they don’t know what to do?_

The announcement went on — the flight attendant seemed to pull a black strap out of no where, holding it up in the air, taut: _“Before takeoff, please fasten your seatbelt by inserting clasp into the buckle, and then pulling the strap. You can undo seatbelt by lifting the flap. Please keep your seatbelt done up during take off, landing, and whenever the seatbelt sign is on. We also recommend that you keep your seatbelt fastened whenever seated in case of turbulence or weather conditions.”_

Marik sat up straight, leaning forward slightly, doing his best to take in all of this new information. He’d done his seatbelt already (it was fairly intuitive), buthe hadn’t noticed the glowing seatbelt sign above him, which seemed pretty important. He swallowed, hoping he hadn’t missed anything else.

_“If the air pressure inside the cabin changes, oxygen masks will drop from above you. Pull down firmly to activate the flow of oxygen. Put it over your mouth as quickly as possible, and then tighten the strap. Oxygen will flow without the bag inflating. Be sure to fit your own mask before helping others.”_

Marik bit his lip. _Slow down! How is this possible for anyone to remember?!_

_“You should also be sure to note that there is a lifejacket under your seat, or inside your armrest if you’re flying first class. Remove the lifejacket from the pouch by pulling the tag. Put the lifejacket over your head, pass the strap around your waist, clip at the front, and then tighten. On the lifejacket, you will find a red tag and a mouthpiece for inflation, as well as a light, and a whistle for attracting attention. Please do not inflate your lifejacket until you have left the aircraft.”_

The engine began to hum softly. A higher-pitched whirring could be heard, presumably coming from propellors in the wings. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, but he forced himself to focus on the safety demonstration as the automated voice ploughed on:

_“You should also be familiar with the brace position. Lean forwards, folding your arms on the back of the seat in front of you, and rest your head on your forearm, or, if you cannot reach the seat in front of you, lean forwards and hold your legs, tucking your chin to your chest.”_

Marik glanced around him. _I…are we supposed to practise? I feel like this is an important thing to get right but no one else is doing it…I guess we’ll just die?_

_“Be sure to know where your nearest exit is. This plane has eight exits, which the cabin crew will now point out to you. Remember that your nearest exit may be behind you. In the unlikely event that we need to leave the aircraft, the floor will be illuminated with lights directing you towards the exits.”_

_Damn right I’m going to know where the exits are. Even if no one else does. Holy Ra, if this plane crashes I’m going to be the only survivor…_

_“In the unlikely event of an emergency, the crew will operate escape slides and life rafts. If we do need to evacuate, please leave everything that you have brought onto the aircraft behind.”_

_Wait but this phone cost a fortune—_

_“It is a federal offence to smoke on this aircraft, including smoking e-cigarettes. This aircraft is fitted with smoke detectors, including in the bathrooms.”_

Then the plane started to move. Something jolted in Marik’s stomach, but it wasn’t fear — it was excitement. Unable to help himself, he leaned forwards and looked out the window as the aircraft gilded along the runway, leaving the gate behind. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. _Oh my god we’re actually going to take off I’m going to be flying in the actual sky-_

_“We are now about to take off. Please ensure that your bags are either stowed in the overhead lockers, or under the seat in front of you, and be sure to turn all electronic devices to flight mode. Make sure that your seat is upright and your tray table is stowed. Thank you for flying with Egyptian Airlines, and we hope you have a safe and enjoyable flight._

Marik checked his seat was in the right position, smiling at the flight attendant as she disappeared down the aisle, heading towards the very back of the plane. He reached for the packet of toffee he’d bought in the newsagent earlier — Ryou had warned him that his ears might pop, but chewing something was supposed to help. His heart pounded as he unwrapped it, the plane rounding a corner. He pressed his head against the side of the plane, trying to look ahead. The runway stretched out in front of them, and Marik held his breath, his eyes widening.

_Horus above we’re getting off the fucking ground—_

Then the engine roared to life. A rush of adrenaline surged through his veins, and he suddenly felt lighter. The plane sped up, and he felt him being pushed back against the seat. Despite the layers of insulation on the plane’s hull, the sounds the engines, and the tiny wheels flying across the tarmac (he assumed that was what runways were made of), were almost deafening. It was almost like white noise, but the volume was turned up too high and he couldn’t find the volume button and turn it down again. He gritted his teeth — a lifetime of living underground had made him unaccustomed to loud noises. But despite that, his excitement far outweighed his discomfort. His eyes glowed as their surroundings rushed past, anticipation building in his chest.

Then they left the ground.

Marik felt shivers all over his arms and back as the plane began to lift. The noise became less intense, and the wheels finally left the ground, being pulled back into the plane’s hull with a gentle whirr. He leaned forward, staring out the window, spellbound as the airport got smaller and smaller. The plane turned, the left wing tilting towards the ground, and Marik gasped as the city opened out beneath them, almost pressing his face against the window. A sea of golden lights glittered against a dark, blue-tinted sky, forming an intricate network of streets and highways. The Nile split the city in two, a dark void breaking up the lights of the city, smoky light dancing on it’s surface. Cairo was bigger than he could have ever imagined, yet smaller with every passing second. It was beautiful.

He suppressed a sound of protest as the plane tilted the other way, the lights disappearing from view. He tried to look out of the windows on the other side of the plane, but the person on the opposite aisle seat was blocking his view. Disappointed, he sat back in his seat, trying to memorise what he’d seen, to savour this feeling of wonder.

He’d had a lot of firsts since he’d emerged from the tombs. This was by far his favourite — his first time on a plane.

His anxiety had completely vanished, replaced by a sense of freedom. Never before had he felt this far from the tombs which had been his prison for so long. They were underground, below the earth. He was high above them.

Night turned to dawn, and dawn turned to day, more quickly than he’d expected. He remembered from being on ships that sailors had to adjust their clocks for the changing time zone as they navigated the ocean, but it wasn’t nearly as disorienting as this. Marik was used to using the sky to tell the time, so to him, time seemed to accelerate as they flew East, into the sunrise. The computers showed the time in Cairo and the time in Osaka, but not the time that it technically was at that moment, which was even more disconcerting, because Marik could sort of tell, and neither of the times on the display matched.

Finally, he reached for his phone, and put in his headphones, unable to help staring at the clouds carpet of clouds outside his window in awe. They were the fluffier, softer, and whiter than he could have possibly imagined, and he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see them again like this. He took a few photos, but his phone couldn’t come close to capturing the real thing. He wanted to drink it in as thoroughly as he could, in the hope that he never forgot what they looked like.

Marik wasn’t sure how much time passed before he felt a tap on his shoulder: “Hi, I’m sorry, but I think you’re sitting in my seat? 49A?”

Marik looked up suddenly, taking his headphones out of his ears — he looked up at the stranger, a tall young woman, with tanned skin, not unlike his own, as well as dark eyes, and long, thick, wavy black hair. She wore a black jumpsuit, the front of which was embroidered with a detailed lioness head. “I’m sorry?”

“You might have mixed up the seat numbers,” she repeated, looking neither annoyed nor apologetic. “49A is the window seat, not 49C.”

Marik blinked, then checked his ticket, which was tucked into his seat pocket. He already knew it said 49B, but the stranger didn’t need to know that. He feigned surprise, leaning forward to ‘move’ (see: grab the Rod from under his seat because the window seat was his and this person could deal with it). “Oh! Sorry, if you wanted me to move I’ll just—”

“No, it’s fine,” the stranger said smoothly, oozing confidence as she sat down in seat 49B, her movements fluid and graceful. “I don’t mind — I just thought I should let you know.”

Marik backtracked, surprised, sitting up again. “Oh, okay then.”

She smiled — arrogant, but not insincere, her eyes glinting. “What’s your name?”

Oh, so they were doing this. Conversation. He blinked. “Marik Ishtar.”

“Ishtar…” she mused, smiling again, as though she knew something he didn’t. “You can call me Astarte.”

Something about her response struck Marik as odd, but he couldn’t tell whether she was being cryptic or offering him a nickname. Both possibilities were unusual in this situation, but he didn’t think much of it. He smiled. “Hi.”

Her eyes glowed. “What are you doing in Osaka, then?”

_Is striking up conversation on plane trips something that people normally do?_ he wondered, responding, “I’m not going to Osaka, actually — as soon as the plane lands I’m catching a train to Domino City. It’s fairly small, you probably haven’t heard of it—”

“Oh, no, I’ve heard of Domino! That’s where Seto Kaiba hosts all of his Duel Monsters tournaments.”

“You know Kaiba?”

“I know of him,” she said, grinning with her eyes. “What are you doing there?”

Marik hesitated. “Have you heard about Kioru Tadako?”

The young woman’s eyes darkened. “Yes, I did. Are you going to Domino because of him?

“Mm. I’m curious about what happened to him,” he said carefully, his guard up, not divulging too much. The more he spoke to Astarte, the more he felt like he was staring into a fire — it was fascinating from a distance, but he was wary about getting too close. He liked her, but he didn’t trust her.

Astarte cocked her head to one side. “Did you know him?”

“No — I know other people who were involved, though.”

She smiled, almost sadly this time. “That’s right…”

Silence hung between them for a few moments. Marik narrowed his eyes, almost suspicious. _What could she mean by that?_

Before he could think about it for too long, Astarte spoke again: “So why are you investigating into Tadako’s death?”

Marik paused. “Because I don’t trust anyone else to do it properly.” _The DCPB don’t know a thing about shadow games, and it should stay that way…_

Astarte narrowed her eyes, her gaze becoming more intense, a kind of fire flaring in her dark eyes. “But why does it _matter?_ ”

Marik swallowed, suddenly feeling compelled to be perfectly truthful. The words came out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through: “Tadako was innocent. He shouldn’t have died. If no one finds out the truth as to _why_ , it…it just wouldn’t be right.”

Astarte considered this for a fee moments, and then smiled — cocky, but not disingenuous. “Good talk, Ishtar,” she said, grinning to herself as though she’d made some kind of joke that Marik wasn’t in on, standing up and walking back down the aisle, leaving Marik staring after her, stunned.

It suddenly occurred to Marik that he hadn’t noticed her on the plane during take-off. And he’d never described his interest in Tadako’s death as an ‘investigation’.

 

* * *

 

Marik arrived in Domino City at 4:00pm the next day, less jet-lagged than he expected. He only had a small bag of luggage — he’d taken it all on the plane with him, in the overhead locker. A little weary, but still fairly alert, he strode into the lobby of KaibaCorp’s tower in the centre of the city. 

_Fitting, since KaibaCorp is so central to how the city runs…_

He was greeted by a young boy in a white suit, with a wild mass of black hair and _holy shit that was Mokuba._ Marik hardly recognised him. He felt a pang of sadness for the preteen (not just because he was a preteen, though that was also cause for pity), wondering whether the change in wardrobe was a part of him assuming his new responsibilities, with Seto out of action.

Mokuba didn’t offer him a handshake. Probably because the last time they’d seen each other, Marik hadn’t been the most benign or peaceable person. _Ryou must be more convincing than I give him credit for, since he’s letting me stay here,_ he thought.

Marik finally broke the awkward, almost stony silence which had settled between them, clearing his throat. “Hey.”

Mokuba hesitated, eyeing him warily. “Just so you know, I don’t trust you, and I don’t like this whole situation. If you cause any damage while you’re here, that’ll be a personal cost for you to deal with.”

Marik smiled gently. _I guess he’s filling Kaiba’s role in more ways than one…_ “Got it. No breaking anything. Look, I know-”

“Your room’s on level four. And Marik-” he broke off, looking Marik dead in the eye, though his gaze was bright with humour. “If I become some kind of hostage because of all of this, I’m blaming you.”

Marik grinned. “Understood.”

Accompanied by two security guards who were far more intimidating than what should be allowed, even when Marik had the Rod in his hand, they caught the elevator up to the fourth floor. Mokuba led the way down the corridor, towards room 414. He unlocked it, and then tossed Marik a key. “This one’s yours.”

Marik nodded, moving past Mokuba, pushing open the door, revealing a simple office. The room was well lit, and there was a simple wooden desk and a wheelie chair in the centre, with a state-of-the-art desktop computer sitting on it, a myriad of chords plugging into a powerboard underneath. One wall was lined with empty bookshelves and filing cabinets, and alongside the other was a mattress, made up with blankets, as well as a large cupboard. A pot plant sat near the large window, and there was a stool in the corner.

Marik smiled. It was completely unlike the tombs. “It’s perfect.”

Mokuba tried not to look too pleased with himself. “Good. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall.”

“Great.”

As Marik pulled his suitcase inside, Mokuba moved back towards the doorway. Marik swallowed. “Hey, by the way…”

“Hm?” The raven-haired CEO-stand-in glanced over his shoulder.

Marik hesitated. “Why are you helping me?”

Mokuba turned away, breaking Marik’s gaze — Marik caught a flash of pain in Mokuba’s eyes before they disappeared from sight. He was silent for a few moments. Then he spoke, his voice thick with emotion:

“Kioru Tadako had a younger sister.”


	4. Chapter Three: Revival of the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik meets up with old friends.

The next morning, Marik woke up more exhausted than when he’d gone to sleep. Soft dawn light crept through the cracks in the blinds, rendering his nightlight redundant. Shaped like some kind of bird of prey, which Marik had always thought of as a falcon, it sat a few feet away from him, giving off a warm, comforting glow. He always became a little embarrassed when others learned that he still used a nightlight. But then, if they’d been through what he’d been through, and seen what he’d seen, they wouldn’t like sleeping in the dark either.

He stood up, opening the blinds. His room wasn’t very high up, but he still felt lighter somehow — the feeling of freedom from when he was on the plane lingered whenever he was close to the sky. Moreover, the view, while not as spectacular as it had been from the plane, wasn’t bad. The silver towers surrounding KaibaCorp’s headquarters shone in the golden morning light, and he could see the waterfront through the gaps between them. He gazed distractedly outside for a few moments more, leaning forwards, resting his hands on the windowsill, still feeling a bit spaced out. His surroundings had become so different so suddenly. In a good way, for sure, but still.

Marik yawned, stretching his arms above his head, feeling a few different things crack. Although he felt tired and disoriented, he didn’t feel as awful as he felt he probably should’ve after the long plane trip. His sleep schedule had always been irregular, especially in the tombs, where the sun was functionally absent, the distinction between day and night almost irrelevant. Down there, there was no guarantee that the sun would rise when it was supposed to.

Finally, with some fresh clothes, brushed hair, eyeliner sharp enough to stab someone with, and more than a few questions about how Mokuba thought he was supposed to shower, he headed out the door, all seven Millennium Items securely in his backpack. He still wasn’t sure about leaving them in his room — he didn’t know how many people would be able to unlock his door.

Ryou had invited him to a café called The Black Fawn, in the city centre, so that they could catch up. According to Ryou, the café made the best herbal tea in Domino, even if it was a little pricey. Yugi was planning on coming too — it’d been a while since either of them had seen the other, and, of course, Marik had a few things to ask about Kioru, if Yugi was feeling up to it. But he would understand if Yugi didn’t want to talk about it yet.

Being involved in someone’s death was something you never really got over.

Ryou had sent him directions earlier that morning, at about three, which was worrying, but unsurprising. The Black Fawn was only half a dozen blocks away, so Marik had decided to walk, setting off at around quarter past nine. A thin blanket of snow had settled on the ground overnight — Marik had rugged up as much as he could, zipping up his parka, winding his scarf, a gift from Ishizu, around his nose and ears. He was still cold though, used to the scorching Egyptian sun. Although it had only been a few minutes, his fingers felt numb, his ears and nose felt almost painful, and he couldn’t feel his feet at all. He was going to have to find thicker socks. And a beanie. And gloves. And maybe even hand warmers.

The streets were busier than Marik remembered — he supposed it was close to peak hour, in the middle of the city, but it was surprising nonetheless. Important looking people in suits and pencil skirts surrounded him, rushing to work, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. Taxis lined the curb, each one disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared, ferrying people across the city. A few duelists were hanging around too, their duel disks strapped securely to their right arms, a silent challenge to anyone else who passed them. Marik took it all in, wide-eyed. He had a feeling he’d walked down this street before, but he couldn’t place when or why — everything was strangely familiar, yet completely foreign at the same time.

Ryou was leaning against wall outside the café when Marik approached, a warm coat zipped up to his chin. He smiled softly when he spotted the duelist, his eyes tired, but warm. “Hey, Marik,” he said quietly, understated as ever. 

Marik felt something inside him light up when he saw his friend, despite the circumstances. He even felt himself cracking a smile. “Hey!”

He drew his freezing hands out of his pocket, pulling them back into his sleeves to protect them from the cold, outstretching his arms to offer Ryou a hug. Ryou smiled, allowing Marik to give him a quick squeeze, pulling away first, brushing his long white hair out of his eyes. “I hope finding this place wasn’t too hard. I wondered earlier if we should have gone someplace you already knew.”

Marik shook his head. "Everything I knew in Domino City's probably different now anyway. It's been a while."

“Yeah. I suppose a lot must have changed since you were here last."

“Yeah."

A silence fell between them — the kind where there was plenty to talk about, but neither party was quite sure where to start, and they had just enough distance from each other for it to be a bit awkward. Marik swallowed, searching for something to say in order to break it. “I, uh... I guess with everything that’s been going on… are you holding up okay?”

Ryou blinked, and then gave him a wry smile. “I’ve seen worse.”

The snowy-haired teen led him inside, where, to Marik’s relief, it was much warmer. The tables and chairs were made of smooth, hard wood, circular lights hung overhead, and leafy green plants filled every corner and crevice. Light pop music played in the background, accompanied by the expected background noise — the clinking of glasses, the hissing of a coffee machine, and the quiet murmur of customers. Marik adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, taking in the new scents and sounds.

Ryou glanced back at him. “Did you want a coffee? Ridiculously strong, and with blasphemous amounts of cream and sugar?”

Marik grinned. “It's not blasphemy if we're not offending any gods.”

Ryou rolled his eyes, and headed up to the counter. "Alright, alright, but you're paying for it.”

Marik nodded, and picked a table near the window, which had mostly fogged up, what with all the snow outside. He yawned, resting his chin on his hand, staring through the glass at the shadowy shapes outside, only now realising how out of it he was. His limbs felt heavy, and he felt more than ready to place his head on the table and fall asleep then and there. _Okay, so maybe I’m a_ little _jet-lagged..._

“Hey, Earth to Marik…”

Marik sat up suddenly as he heard Ryou behind him, whipping his head around. “Oh, hi…”

Ryou smiled softly. “Tired?”

“A little…”

Ryou nodded, shedding his jacket, sitting opposite the blonde duelist. “Was your trip okay?”

Marik straightened slightly, eyes lighting up. “Yeah, it was good! It was my first time on a plane, and the view was _amazing_!”

“You think you like flying, then?” He said, faintly amused.

“God _, absolutely—”_

He broke off, both of them looking around as the bell on the door tinkled. Yugi’s hair poked through the door, followed by the rest of him as he scanned the room for his friends, giving them a small smile and a little wave. He turned to close the door as quickly as he could, not wanting to let any more cold air in, his blonde bangs almost floating, tousled by the breeze outside. He approached their table, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck. The closer he got, the more Marik realised something was off about him — usually, he radiated friendliness, and had a quiet determination about him, but instead, everything about him seemed tired and dull. It was impossible to miss the dark bags under his eyes, nor his more-unkempt-than-usual hair, nor the way his shoulders were slightly hunched, making him seem even smaller. As he sat down, he smiled weakly at Marik, but it wasn’t his usual smile — even the smile he gave to strangers would usually reach his eyes. “Hey, Ryou-kun. Marik-kun.”

Marik felt something inside of him swell. He liked the ‘ _kun_ ’ bit. “Hey. How’ve you—” He broke off, realising that Yugi obviously hadn't been great recently, rushing to fix his mistake. “Are you doing okay?”

“I mean…” he trailed off. “No. Someone's dead, and I feel like shit. But I could feel shittier, I guess.”

Marik swallowed. If that was the most positive spin Yugi Mutou could put on this situation, then it really was shit. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that."

Ryou made a quiet noise of agreement. "Same, but maybe we should talk about literally anything other than this until our drinks come?"

Yugi blinked at him in surprise, looking almost indignant. "Isn't that what Marik came here fore?"

"Yes, it is. But you could use a bit of distraction from everything." He placed a hand on Yugi's shoulder, eyes dark with worry. "You look like you've been through hell and back."

"But—"

"Yugi, you _will_ take care of yourself, and we _will_ talk about something else right now. Take your mind of everything, just for ten minutes."

The duelist smiled grimly. "Okay, fine. Thanks, Ryou."

“Why don't we catch Marik up on what everyone else is doing?”

“Yeah, okay...” He glanced at Marik, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "As long as that's okay with you?"

Marik nodded, smiling, glad Ryou was taking care of Yugi — he sure as hell didn't know how to. "Yeah, of course."

He sat back in his chair, listening silently, letting Yugi and Ryou carry the conversation, running through what their friends had been doing as they waited for their drinks arrived. Although he still felt exhausted, to his credit, he paid full attention to what was happening at least 30% of the time. It wasn't that he didn't care that Anzu was visiting from America, where she was studying music theatre, it was that he didn't care about the little details, like who her roommate was, or how long her semesters were, but if it was good for Yugi to talk about it, (which Ryou seemed to think it was,) he could pretend to be interested. The conversation drifted from Anzu, to Honda, to Jonouchi, and eventually to Yugi himself — he was designing some kind of new game, which merged traditional trading cards with something like DnD, as far as Marik could tell. At least, Ryou was enthusiastic about it.

“I might even get a deal with KaibaCorp,” Yugi was saying, smiling slightly — a genuine one. “Imagine, working with the biggest gaming company in Japan...”

Ryou laughed, imitating Yugi. “Imagine, Kaiba swallowing his pride and actually working together with _you_...”

“Hey, that’s not fair — he and I duelled side by side last year," he said, giving Ryou a good-natured poke.

Ryou just grinned mischievously. “Wasn’t conscious, didn’t happen.”

“Ryou, that accounts for like, seventy percent of everything that’s happened for the past few years,” the duelist countered, laughing slightly. 

Marik couldn’t help but feel as though he was missing something, but he remained silent. The coffee arrived — he took a long sip, feeling his mind begin to buzz as he took in the desperately-needed caffeine and sugar.

The duo’s laughs died away, and Yugi became more serious again. "Drinks are here, can we talk about Kioru now?"

Ryou nodded. "As long as you feel up to it."

The duelist swallowed. "I’m...fine. I feel a lot better, actually. But I hardly know what you mean to do, Marik," he said, glancing at him. "Why are you here?"

Marik hesitated. "I— I wanted to try and work out why Kioru— why  _that_ happened, two days ago. I mean, it's  _got_ to be shadow magic, hasn't it? So I probably stand some chance of working it all out."

Yugi frowned. "I mean, sure, but it's not your responsibility, you really don’t need to take this on—”

Marik shook his head. “It’s okay. I don’t know why, but I just…I feel like I do. I feel like _someone_ needs to work out what’s going on, and no one else is really trying, so it’s been left up to me.”

Yugi paused, tilting his head slightly. “I guess you’d do a better job than the police. Do you have anything so far?”

“I mean, I don’t know much. I only know that Kioru… _collapsed_ , when his life points hit zero, and that I had all of the Millennium Items at the time. But even so, I just...I can’t see how the Millennium Items could’ve _not_ been involved,” he said, putting his mug down on the table. “Like, it _doesn’t_ make sense, but everything being caused by a shadow game makes _more_ sense than it being pure coincidence. It _must’ve_ been a shadow game. I don’t see how either you or Kioru could have started one, without any of the Items. But there’s just— there isn’t another explanation, is there?”

Yugi's eyes narrowed. “Wait. You said you had _all_ of the Millennium Items?”

“Yeah. Someone had excavated them all, back in Egypt, but they weren’t very safe where they were. I figured I know better than anyone how to look after them.”

Yugi didn’t quite look as if he believed him. He leaned forward, his wide-eyed gaze probing Marik. “But, _all_ of them?”

“Including the Puzzle and the Ring?” Ryou added.

Marik blinked, wondering what was so odd about him having those two in particular. _Of all the things that don’t quite add up about this whole situation…_ “Yeah, look, I’ll show you.”

He leaned over, reaching under his chair for his backpack, pulling out the Rod, then the Puzzle, then the Ring. Yugi shifted his chair slightly, blocking the view of any onlookers, and then reached for the Puzzle, carefully taking it in both hands, holding it close to his face, inspecting it. He smiled softly. “Yeah, that’s it. But who assembled it?”

Marik frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. “That’s how I found it. Either someone at the museum had a computer do it, or it was found like that, I guess.”

Yugi nodded, continuing to examine at the Puzzle thoughtfully. Ryou’s eyes had locked onto the Ring, his gaze unreadable. Marik took the Rod off the table, twirling it between his fingers. “So, why is it so odd to you both that I should have these?”

Ryou and Yugi exchanged a glance. Then Ryou said to Marik: “Did anyone catch you up on what happened back when Kaiba was releasing the new duel disk?”

“Ryou, if you didn’t do it, assume no one has.”

Ryou sighed. “Well, long story short, this guy called Diva, an old disciple of Shadi, had an eighth Millennium Item, the Dimension Cube—”

“Wait, _eighth_ Millennium Item?” Marik echoed disbelievingly. _I like to think I’d know about something like that already._

Ryou nodded. “Mm. Maybe it was created after the others, with the same Millennium Spellbook? We’re not sure. Whatever it was, Diva used it to try and destroy the human race as we know it, in order to create a more ‘perfect world’ or something—”

Marik stared at Ryou, stunned. _How the_ fuck _did I not know about humanity almost getting destroyed—_

“—and also Kaiba was trying to excavate the Puzzle himself and bring back Atem at the same time. The end result was Atem reappearing and helping Yugi to stop Diva, only to disappear again, taking the Puzzle with him.”

“The Millennium Ring also got mixed up in everything, somehow,” Yugi added. “Diva got possessed by it before Kaiba and I fought him together. We thought it had been lost too.”

Marik blinked, his mind buzzing with questions. “Where’s this eighth Millennium Item now?”

“Kaiba ended up with it. Mokuba says that it’s safe, and that it certainly wasn’t touched before…” Yugi trailed off, his eyes darkening.

“Before Kioru,” Ryou said quietly, clarifying for Marik, casting Yugi a worried glance.

Marik nodded solemnly, still processing this new information. “Let me get this straight: you both thought that the Puzzle was in the afterlife with Atem, and the Ring had been destroyed?”

Yugi sighed. “Yup.”

_Why would they reappear again?_

Ryou continued to stare at the Ring. Marik had a feeling he didn’t even have to touch it to know that it wasn’t a fake — he’d noticed that Ryou had a strange kind of intuition surrounding the supernatural, and he was certain the Millennium Items weren’t exempt from that. Yugi glanced at Ryou. “Are you okay? You’ve been looking at that thing for a while.”

“You’ve been staring at the Puzzle,” Ryou retorted.

“Sure, but not as if it might bite my head off.”

Ryou smiled wryly. “I’ve just been working out whether it has a spirit in it. It doesn’t.”

Yugi blinked at him, but didn’t question this. 

Marik suddenly stopped spinning the Rod, narrowing his eyes. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they appear again?”

“That was exactly what we were wondering,” Yugi said, handing the Puzzle back to Marik, his eyes a little wistful. “Maybe it’s relevant to…y’know.”

Marik grimaced. “I’m sure it is. How was your talk with the police?”

Yugi glanced down at the table, looking worried. “I don’t know. I talked to a junior investigator, Officer Tadeka, who was onto the fact that Kioru’s passing coinciding with the duel ending wasn’t just chance. I don’t think they’re going to leave all of this alone.”

Marik nodded. “But as long as they don’t know about the shadow games, everything will be fine, right?”

“Mm. I’m just concerned that Tadeka seemed willing to do a fair bit of digging,” Yugi replied, leaning back in his chair. “God knows, there are plenty of things he could uncover that weren’t supposed to be found. Things that could get all three of us into trouble.”

Marik swallowed, not meeting Yugi’s eyes, staring into his coffee. “Yeah.”

There was a long pause. Ryou also looked more than a little nervous.

Yugi broke the silence, which was becoming more than a little awkward: “Just so you know, Atem set a guy on fire once. A few guys, actually. So, um, I get it a little bit too.”

Ryou and Marik exchanged a glance. _No, you don’t._

 Within an hour, Yugi had to leave. Marik offered to pay the tab, doing so through a little harmless brainwashing — that was how he’d gotten by when he first left the tombs, and not being able to do so in the past year had been more than a little problematic, but he’d managed, with a lot of help from Ishizu and Rishid. He didn’t tell Yugi and Ryou what he’d done though — they definitely wouldn’t have approved.

He pushed his hands deep into his pockets once he got outside, a gust of freezing wind blustering into him, blowing his hair front of his eyes. He shook it aside, and paced slowly down the chilly streets — it had started to snow again, large, fluffy flakes of it gently drifting to the ground. He smiled. He didn’t get the opportunity to see snow very often. It was pretty enough that he was willing to put up with the fact that his fingers would almost certainly lose all feeling in the next few minutes.

Still, Marik shivered as the cold wind seemed to cut through him. The footsteps of everyone around him crunched almost unnaturally loudly in the snow. The crowd was marginally thinner, but the streets were still buzzing with activity — cars sped down the main road, people wearing expensive-looking coats carried shopping bags as they continued to gaze into store windows, and the jarring, grating sounds of construction work could be heard a block away. Countless people passed him, not noticing him, not noticing each other. Nothing was particularly out of the ordinary, but the more he looked around, for some reason, Marik couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Swallowing nervously, he continued on his way, back to the KaibaCorp building, so that he could lie down, and figure out what he was supposed to do with the rest of his day. Still, he felt on edge, and though he couldn’t think why, the feeling only grew. He quickened his pace, trying to push it back. _You’re being ridiculous Marik. Why would—_

Then, as he approached a corner, he felt someone’s gaze boring into him.

He stopped, turning in a slow, careful circle, scanning his surroundings, fists clenching automatically, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He knew not to ignore this feeling. And he especially wasn’t going to ignore it considering the events of the past two days. He gingerly removed his backpack and pulled out the Millennium Ring, holding it out in front of him. _Where’s the person who’s watching me._

The Ring’s prongs twitched, then the one in the centre stuck outwards, pointing a bit to the right, down a dark alley.

Marik glowered at it, as though it was somehow the Ring’s fault that he was supposed to be heading down such an ominous alleyway, most likely devoid of anyone else. _Great_.

Marik turned in that direction, and the point of the prong stayed in place, as though the Ring was a compass, and whoever was watching Marik was north. Cautiously, ready to swap the Ring for the Rod at a moment’s notice, Marik slunk down the side street, his heart hammering against his ribcage. He called out, his voice steadier than he expected. “Hello?”

“Hey, asshole.”

Marik jumped, gripping the ring tighter, his eyes widening. His heart leapt to his throat, and his hands were shaking. _Oh boy. I know that voice. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me._

He glanced quickly around, not seeing anyone. Then: “… _Bakura?”_

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed.”

Marik took a half-step back, confused, and more a little scared. Three thoughts, three questions, dominated his thoughts: what the fuck, how the fuck, and why the fuck. A wave of emotion assaulted him all at once, shaking to his core — shock, denial, distress, uneasiness, and somewhere deep down, joy. He tried to pretend that last one wasn’t there. He tried to convince himself that more than anything, he felt _irritated_. Irritated that Bakura, who should’ve been _dead_ , had the _nerve_ to show up now and make him feel all conflicted like this. Bakura, who was an old friend, but one that Marik wasn’t sure he could trust anymore. He glanced over his shoulder, searching for the source of the voice. “Bakura, where the _hell_ are you?”

“Stop looking around so much and focus on the wall in front of you.”

Marik blinked, taking another step backwards, staring at the empty space. Sure enough, when he concentrated on the one spot, Bakura slowly materialised — first his white hair, then his striped shirt, moving slowly downward, although his feet never became fully visible. He looked more ghost than human, his spectral form flickering and wavering. There were bags under his eyes, his hair was disarranged and dishevelled, and his face looked slightly off colour. Marik stared at him, doing everything he could to pretend the urge to celebrate Bakura’s return wasn’t there. “You look like a mess.”

Bakura glowered back at him. “I think we’ve both got bigger problems than that.”

Marik nodded, eyeing Bakura warily, his mind racing. Even without the context of Kioru’s death, Bakura’s sudden reappearance was nothing if not suspicious. Hesitating, Marik grabbed the Millennium Rod out from the top of his backpack, pulling the sheath off the blade, letting its deadly tip show, glinting in the darkness, a silent threat. “You’re _definitely_ going to have a problem or two if you don’t explain why you’re here.”

Bakura eyed the Rod. “Geez, you _are_ still an asshole, aren’t you?”

“Maybe, but right now, that’s your problem, not mine.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Marik glared at him, swallowing. “Because someone’s just died playing a card game, and if you’re here, it could’ve been your fault.”

Bakura stared at Marik for a moment, then looked away huffily. “If you were going to interrogate me, save it. You’d be wasting your time. I had nothing to do with Kioru’s death.”

“Prove it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m innocent until proven guilty, thank you very much—”

“‘Kura, you were _never_ innocent.”

Bakura scowled at him. “Fuck off, and take just _two seconds_ to _think._ Why the hell would I want anything with Kioru?”

Marik narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t. But maybe you’d’ve wanted to kill Yugi. Maybe you missed your target.”

Bakura looked exasperated now. “Are you _stupid?_ It’s the Pharaoh I have a score to settle with. I don’t like Yugi, nor any of his friends, but I never wanted to kill them. They’re expendable, but not worth chasing after.”

Marik paused, considering this. He trusted Bakura about as far as he could throw him — which wasn’t very far, considering he didn’t appear to have a physical form. But he couldn’t deny that he was making a fair bit of sense. Nor could he deny the fact that he _wanted_ to believe him. He bit his lip. “Alright. Let’s say I believe you. What’s going on with— with _this,”_ he said, gesturing at Bakura’s ghost-like form.

Bakura’s gaze dropped. He pulled his right arm across his stomach, almost looking vulnerable. “I don’t really know. I don’t have a body — I think I’m just a spirit now. A fragment of a soul. I’ve only been back, if this even counts, for a few weeks. I’d love to know what’s going on here just as much as you would.”

Marik blinked, pushing back a pang of sympathy. _Don’t feel sorry for him, damnit. You can’t trust him._ “You don’t know why you’re here?”

Bakura shook his head. “No. I’ve been dead for months.” He lifted his gaze, staring at Marik. “Which is why I want to help you.”

Marik instinctively gripped the Rod more tightly, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “I’m sorry?”

Bakura gave him a long, careful look. “I’m powerless like this, Marik. My soul doesn’t rest in the Ring anymore, and without a physical form, I can’t do a whole lot except for lurking, spying, and watching. People generally can’t see me unless I show myself to them, and even then, it can be a struggle. I don’t like this any more than you do, and I want to know why I’m here more than anything. You’re right — Kioru’s death and my reappearance _can’t_ have been a coincidence. I haven’t managed to work out what the connection is — I’ve been spending the past few days hanging around the site of the duel, and listening in on other people’s conversations. I’ve been trying to work out what happened with Kioru, and why I’m here, but…” he trailed off, taking in a deep breath, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I don’t think I can do it on my own.”

Marik bit his lip, considering this, his eyes widening. That was a big admission for Bakura to make. The breeze picked up a little, stirring his hair, snow swirling around them. Hope and apprehension swelled in his chest, simultaneously. “You want to work together? As partners?”

Bakura looked resigned, more than a little irked, and more defenceless than he would’ve wanted to. “If you _must_ phrase it like that.”

Marik stared at him, hoping he looked more impartial than he felt. He hadn’t dared admit it to himself, but he’d _missed_ Bakura. Not necessarily for who he was, (see: a homicidal sadist), but because of the role that he’d played — Bakura had been his first friend. The spirit had probably never thought of him like that, but when they’d been working together, Marik had felt a little less alone. The blonde-haired duelist stared at the ground. “The last time we were a team, I was a very different person,” he said quietly. “I’m not chasing vengeance this time. I’m just chasing answers.” _I’m trying to do something good. I don’t know if you fit in with that._

Bakura narrowed his eyes. Although he left his rejection of his old ways unsaid, Bakura seemed to pick up on it regardless. “Figures. You were always soft. But if it’s answers you’re after as well, then I’ll put up with it — I tolerated you then, I’ll tolerate you now.”

Marik smiled sheepishly at him. “You _are_ desperate.”

Bakura sighed almost aggressively, looking pained. “Yeah, I am.”

Marik continued to eye the spirit. Bakura seemed as sincere as he ever was. Marik knew Bakura was good at acting, good at lying, but deep down, Marik wanted this. He _wanted_ to trust the spirit. Bakura had been there for Marik when no one else was — they’d both risked everything together. He was a dick, for sure, but they had a little bit more in common than just a goal.

Marik eyed him for a moment more, before finally outstretching his hand. “Alright. We’ll give this a shot.”

Bakura smiled, and took it.

His hand felt cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, there were a few abridged references in here! Can you spot them? ;) (probably XD)
> 
> Also, to clarify, everyone is speaking Japanese, presumably using the appropriate honourifics. I don't like to add them in most of the time since it feels kind of clunky/as English-speaking readers our attention is drawn to it more than it should be/they aren't used in the manga as far as I can remember, but I chose to highlight Yugi using 'kun' to Marik first of all because friendship, but also because _jesus christ Yugi uses kun all over the place_. Like in dsod: "oh, Aigami?? That guy whose name we all momentarily forgot, and who we've never exchanged a word with on screen?? He's Aigami-kun :)" Just in case anyone was wondering.
> 
> but yeet, spoopy stuff! :D


	5. Chapter Four: Panic Wave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik isn't very good at coping with stress and other feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick tw, there's plenty of mentions of blood in this chapter, à la Marik's father's death. Also anyone who could be triggered by panic attacks might want to proceed with caution, this chapter is called what it's called for a reason, though I have no experience with panic attacks so I'm not really sure, but just in case, look after yourselves friends :)

It only took half a day for Marik and Bakura fall into a comfortable, familiar rhythm.

“Bakura, what the  _ fuck  _ have you done with my hairbrush?!”

“What the-?! Bloody hell Marik, I haven’t done anything with your hairbrush!”

“Then who moved it?! Because I swear to the Gods, I left it on top of that filing cabinet yesterday—”

“Why would you put your hairbrush on top of a  _ filing cabinet—“ _

“Fuck off, I’ll do what I like with my hairbrush—”

“But of all places—”

“The only reason  _ you _ should be concerned is it’s not there anymore, and you’re the only logical culprit!”

Marik ran his hand through his thick, scruffy blonde hair — slightly scruffier than usual, in the absence of his hairbrush. He was standing in the centre of the room, hands on his hips, shooting the spirit a dirty look. He’d scanned the whole room multiple times, which left only one possibility: Bakura had done something with it. “Do you think this is funny?”

Bakura stared at him, already 110% done with this conversation. “Marik, I don’t have a physical body, how the  _ fuck  _ could I have moved it—“

“Bakura, that’s bullshit,” Marik said, glaring daggers at him, folding his arms across his chest. “You were making Mokuba’s door swing open and shut last night and  _ I had to try and explain it at 4am—” _

“You can’t prove that was me! It could’ve been the wind!”

“Oh, and the Duel Monsters decks shuffling themselves was the wind too, was it?!”

Bakura leaned back against the desk, smirking, his hands held up in mock-surrender. “Oh, come on. It was funny.”

Marik felt a prick of irritation as the corner of his lip flicked upwards — he turned his face away from Bakura to hide it. His eyes fell on a tray of papers sitting on top of the work desk. He glowered at it, as though the inanimate object was to blame for all of this.“Fuck it,  _ fine,  _ it was funny, but do you want to get me kicked out!?”

“Marik, calm down, I was just messing around—”

“Just like you were with the hairbrush!”

“Oh,  _ fuck off about that already—” _

Marik turned around, glaring at Bakura so intensely that the spirit visibly flinched. “I’ll fuck off when you tell me where you’ve put it! Since it isn’t where I left it, and no one else could’ve come in, you’re the only other person who has access to it. You’re the only one who’s had the means, and the opportunity.”

Bakura swallowed, and raised an eyebrow at him. “Alright then, what’s my motive?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe you’d want to  _ use it?  _ After all, your hair is such a mess that—”

“Marik, if my hair is still a mess, then I haven’t used it, have I?!” the spirit snapped.

Marik opened his mouth, and then shut it again. “Touché. But you’re still a petty piece of shit, and that makes for a motive that’s equally viable.”

Bakura sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Marik, we’re  _ working together _ . I can be petty, certainly, but not towards someone that I…someone that I’m  _ tolerating _ because we have the same end goal. That would be counter-productive.”

“Oh, so you’re tolerating _me_ now? If I remember correctly, you were the one begging me for help,” Marik said smugly.

Bakura glared at him. “Shut up, I don’t beg. You have a hairbrush to find, remember?”

Marik narrowed his eyes, pouting. “Don’t say that as if you have nothing to do with it.”

“That’s just it —  _ I don’t.” _

Marik sighed. This was getting him nowhere. His eyes scoured the room again, finally finding his backpack, which still held the Millennium Items. He grinned. “We’ll see about that, ‘Kura.”

“I— what?” The spirit eyed him warily, his gaze flicking between the Items and Marik.

Marik grinned. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything to you. Yet.” He unzipped the bag, reaching for the Millennium Ring, then holding it out in front of him. “Alright, Ring, who’s the culprit?”

Marik’s heart sank as the sharp prongs poked back over the top of the ring itself, directly at him.

Bakura watched the ring, his eyes glittering with amusement and triumph. “I’m glad that stupid Ring has at least a  _ scrap _ of loyalty.”

Marik frowned, ignoring him. “But…but I left it on the filing cabinet…”

The Ring’s prongs quivered, and then pointed towards the windowsill. Marik blinked, walking over. “But I already checked—”

The prongs jolted to the left, now pointing at the thin cord hanging down from the top of the window. Marik pulled on it, opening the blinds properly. The hairbrush had been on the windowsill, sitting behind the blinds. “Oh.”

Bakura looked incredibly pleased with himself, smirking at Marik from across the room. Marik glared at him. “Shut up.”

“What? I didn’t say anything. Or should His Royal Highness, the Thief King, be gloating—”

Marik rolled his eyes, cuffing him over the back of the head with the hairbrush, grinning. “‘His Royal Highness’ can go fuck himself.”

Bakura eyed the duelist mischievously. “If I were really a king, who knows? Maybe I’d have people to do that for me.”

“Well you’re not, and you don’t, so there,” Marik huffed, swiping the hairbrush through his hair so quickly that finding it probably hadn’t been worth the effort. He dropped it down onto the bed, and threw his coat over his shoulders. “I’m heading out to Tadako’s funeral, just in case I learn something.”

Bakura frowned. “You weren’t invited, were you?”

“No, but it’s not a  _ kokubetsu-shiki _ . That would’ve happened a few days ago, along with the cremation. Today there’s a western memorial service — they’re doing both, since Kioru’s mother was from the US.” He frowned at Bakura. “How come you know about how Japanese funerals work anyway?”

The spirit grinned, almost wolfishly. “I got to attend one, just after I met Ryou. Incidentally, I also caused it.”

Marik stared at Bakura for a few moments, trying to work out exactly what he meant. Then his eyes widened slightly, his blood running cold, gaze dropping. “You shouldn’t be so proud of that."

Bakura paused, sensing the sudden shift in atmosphere, realising he’d somehow touched a nerve. He spoke slowly, carefully, as though he was navigating a minefield, his voice a little less arrogant, a little more gentle. “What do you mean?”

Marik was silent, still, running the parallels through his mind. Ryou’s father and his father. Ryou’s darker half and his darker half. Ryou’s father’s funeral and his father’s funeral. “I’ve attended a funeral that I caused too, y’know,” he said slowly, quietly. “You shouldn’t be proud of it.”

Bakura was quiet for a long time, piecing things together. Then his eyes widened. “Oh. Sorry.”

Marik looked at him sullenly. “Really?”

Bakura swallowed, looking embarrassed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m not sorry about what I did, but...I’m sorry I upset you.”

Marik’s gaze flicked to the floor again. “Yeah, well, I guess that’s something.”

The spirit nodded, having the decency to look a little bit remorseful. He folded his arms, glaring out the window. “If it makes you feel any better, as long as we’re working together, I won’t go to any more funerals that I caused. Seeing as you’ve changed since Battle City, I’ll…try not to create any more funerals to go to.”

Marik blinked, his eyes flicking over the spirit once more, wary, but pleasantly surprised. He smiled, his gaze softening. “Alright. Me too.”

* * *

Marik had only been to one funeral before.

It wasn’t a funeral that he liked to remember. Three people had attended, including himself. There had been no speeches, no flowers, no black umbrellas in the rain. No words of consolation. No remembering the happy times, because there had been none. No assurances that the soul of the deceased was in a better place.

There had only been anger.

Marik had believed that his father’s death was the will of the Pharaoh. As he, Ishizu, and Rishid had buried his father deep beneath the earth, where he had always felt he belonged, Marik’s heart had been rife with pure, unbridled rage. First it had been the will of the Pharaoh that Marik stay underground all his life. Then it had been the will of the Pharaoh for him to have hieroglyphs carved into his back with a hot knife. And finally, according to the turban-clad stranger who’d spoken to him and his sister, it had been the will of the Pharaoh for him to have to see his own father, his eyes lifeless, slumped against the wall, more blood outside of his body than in.

He and his siblings had stared at the spot where their father had been laid to rest, silently, for a long time. Ishizu read a sacred text which she thought their father would have wanted to have been read. Rishid carved a kind of gravestone for him, marked with hieroglyphs, bearing their father’s name, so that he might move onto the next life, his soul intact. But the funeral had been missing one thing.

Actual mourning.

There was a thick sense of melancholy and regret, certainly. Rishid regretted the fact that he’d never earned the man’s approval or respect. Ishizu regretted the fact that his death had been the consequence of her taking Marik outside of the tombs. Marik regretted the fact that he, despite being right there, couldn’t remember any of it. But none of them could truly, honestly say that they’d ever wished he hadn’t died that day.

After learning that he’d killed his own father, one year ago, Marik’s feelings regarding everything that had happened changed substantially. When Marik looked back on it now, he still didn’t mourn his father. But he wasn’t angry.

Instead, there was nothing but guilt.

Only guilt.

Regarding his father, his guilt came in two parts. First, understandably, he regretted being the one to kill him. He’d been the one to hold the rod, to drive it into his father’s flesh and to carve it to pieces. He’d been the one to slice and slice and slice and slice until his father’s blood was smeared across the walls, staining the floor red. He’d been the one to end up with blood on his hands, his clothes, his face. He’d been the one to play Lady Macbeth, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing, feeling as though he’d never get all of the blood off.

But he also felt guilty about not regretting his father’s death itself, only regretting that it had been at his hands. Whenever he thought of his father, bile rose in his throat, not because of everything that he’d done when he was alive, and not even because Marik had stabbed him himself, but because Marik knew he could never feel truly sorry about it. He knew that somewhere out there, if his father had reached a place where his soul was safe, he was cursing him. He was cursing his son for not mourning him. He was cursing his son for not missing him. He was cursing his son for being  _ selfish _ , only regretting his death because of his part of it.

Marik hated himself for that too.

Usually, he dealt with all of this by not thinking about it, by pushing it to the darkest corners of his mind, hoping it would go away, that someone else would deal with it.

It wasn’t until he attended the second funeral of his life that he realised that wasn’t always going to work.

If Hollywood was anything to go by, you'd think that funerals were always held when it was raining, when the sky was dark. But today, everything seemed unnaturally bright. The sky was blotted out by vast white clouds which seemed to glow from their insides, and sunlight bounced off the thick white snow which had settled on the ground. A slight wind stirred the air, and everything smelled cold and wet.

Marik arrived at the small park at 10am, a black trench coat protecting him from the cold, and a scarf concealing his face. White plastic chairs had been placed on the grass, with a narrow aisle down the middle. People dressed in black were milling around in small groups — Marik didn’t recognise any of them. A few of them wore duel disks, but most of them seemed like they were simply family and friends. He craned his neck, trying to spot Yugi. The other duelist had said the other day that he was planning on going to the memorial service, to pay his respects. Given his bright, eccentric hair, even taking into account his short stature, it was odd that Marik was struggling to find him in the crowd. He pulled out his phone, sending him a quick text.

**(9:53) Hey Yugi, I’m at the memorial, you still coming?**

There was no answer.

Marik pushed his hands into his pockets, suddenly feeling deeply uncomfortable — if Yugi wasn’t here, he wouldn’t know anyone.

He was alone with his thoughts.

He swallowed, his mouth feeling dry. Shaking hair out of his eyes, he made his way towards the seats, voices echoing through his mind.

_ “Who is that kid? I’ve never seen him before. Did he know Tadako?” _

_ “I don’t know, but he knows something about Tadako’s death. He thinks it might’ve been murder.” _

_ “Murder?! Tadako was playing a card game!” _

_ “Mm, but the circumstances of his death were still very odd.” _

_ “But why is  _ he _ here? Surely he doesn’t suspect us of anything!?” _

_ “I’m sure he doesn’t…” _

_ “Death by card games, what next?! Soon they’ll be telling us those kids are being possessed by their own hatred…” _

_ “Killing their fathers…” _

_ “With no memory of it…” _

_ “He doesn’t miss him…” _

_ “He never mourned him…” _

_ “He lives with that, every day…” _

**_shut up shut up shut up shut up!_ **

Marik flinched as he felt a sharp, stabbing pain, deep in his skull. He gritted his teeth, his vision darkening for a moment, before the feeling dissipated. He reached for the back of one of the chairs, trying to steady himself, trying to breathe, trying to clear his head, his hands shaking.

He felt like his father was watching him, like he was breathing down his neck. The eyes of everyone around him were his eyes, and they were filled with anger. Guilt burned in the back of his throat like acid.

Funerals were anger. Funerals were guilt.

Slowly, shakily, he let go of the chair in front of him and sat down, sinking into the hard plastic, sucking in a deep breath.  _ You can do this. You can do this. You can’t fix the past. But you can do this. _

He sat there, staring blankly ahead while people continued to mill around him.

_ “How come you deserve to be here when you—”  _ **_shut up_ **

_ “You cut his life short—”  _ **_shut up_ **

_ “Murderer—”  _ **_shut up_ **

_ “You killed—”   _ **_shUT UP_ **

“Hey, are you okay?”

Marik looked up suddenly as another voice cut into his thoughts — a much more corporeal one. A tall young man — not as tall as Kaiba, but significantly taller than Marik — stood close to him, in front of the chair to his left. Whispy, dark bangs hung over his eyes, and a long black coat hung off his thin frame. Marik blinked at him, reality shifting back to normal. “I— yeah. I’m fine.”

The stranger smiled. “No you’re not.”

He sat down next to Marik without asking any further questions, resting his elbows on the backs of the chairs next to him, staring ahead at the podium in front of the chairs. Marik suddenly noticed the duel disk on his left arm. “You’re a duelist?”

The stranger glanced at him. “Yeah. Hiroki Hirata. And you’re…” he trailed off, hesitating. “You’re not Marik Ishtar, are you?”

Marik was unable to hide his surprise. “Yeah, I am. Do I— should I know you?”

Hiroki shook his head. “No. I just recognised you — I have a good memory for faces and names. I think I saw a picture of you in an article about the Battle City finals, in a magazine somewhere. Your hair was different, though. Poofy."

Marik swallowed hard, his blood feeling like ice in his veins. “Oh. Y-yeah, I…changed it. It’s nice to meet you,” Marik said awkwardly. “Did you…I guess you knew Kioru?”

Hiromi nodded, his gaze darkening. “Yeah. He and I were rivals.”

A single word blared through Marik’s mind:  _ MOTIVE.  _ He paused, then pushed it away. He opened his mouth to respond, but Hiroki got in first. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“How did you know him?” Hiroki asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Marik hesitated. “I— I never met him. I didn’t know him personally. I just wanted to figure out why he—”

“Yeah,” Hiroki said, a little too loudly, interrupting him. “Why he went like…that.”

“Mm.”

They sat in silence for a few moments. Hiroki eventually spoke again. “It’s made some people want to stop dueling, y’know. People are scared.”

Marik glanced at him. “Really?”

“Oh, for sure. They don’t know how or why this happened. They’re worried it could happen to them. But not me,” he said firmly, his grip on the chair tightening. “If there’s any way to honour Kioru, it’s by keeping on going. The next time I duel, I’m going to do it for him.”

Marik’s eyebrows lifted. “That’s brave of you.”

Hiroki smiled. “Yeah, well…he deserves it. And hey, if you wanted to ask me anything at all about him, y’know, since you’re looking into this, feel free. I don’t know what makes you think you can work it out, but I’ll do what I can to help.”

Marik considered this, eyeing Hiroki, smiling gratefully. “That would be fantastic. Thank you, Hiroki.”

“You’re welcome. But we probably shouldn’t discuss it here.” He pulled out his phone opening up his contacts, and then searching for his own name. He handed the phone to Marik. “My number.”

Marik’s eyebrows shot upwards, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks as he realised this was the first time he’d gotten a guy’s number _. No. No, you’re not using it for those purposes… _

He pulled his own phone out, adding Hiroki to his contacts. Hiroki took his phone back, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Let me know when you wanted to meet up, or if there’s anything at all I can do to help.”

Marik smiled back, giving a polite nod. “Of course—”

He broke off as they simultaneously noticed someone walking up to the podium. Hiroki leaned closer to Marik, whispering, “Kioru Sato, Tadako’s father.”

Marik nodded, biting his tongue as his anxiety began to grow again because  _ funerals. _ His  foot bounced nervously, and he felt more sensitive to the cold, making his spine shudder, and the hair on the back of his neck rise. Kioru Sato was saying something, but Marik was so uneasy that he couldn’t absorb any of it. Hiroki, noticing Marik’s restlessness, glanced at him, his eyes concerned. “Are you okay?”

“N-not really,” Marik stammered, in a low voice. “Funerals stress me out a bit, that’s all.”

Hirata’s gaze softened, and he rested his foot against Marik’s as a comforting gesture, holding it still, offering a soft smile. Marik lowered his gaze, embarrassed, burying his nose in his scarf.  _ I should be able to deal with my goddamn emotions on my own… _

Most of the funeral was a blur — a few people made speeches, most of them members of Kioru’s immediate family. But as they went on, Marik’s anxiety only grew. His other leg started bouncing, and he began to feel sick, his vision blurring and swaying.  _ I shouldn’t have come. This was a bad idea. I’m not going to one of these damn things again— _

“…I’m Tadako’s younger sister.”

Marik’s looked up suddenly as a voice, a phrase, jerked him from his thoughts.  _ Mokuba mentioned that… _

He straightened his back to get a better look, the churning feeling in his stomach fading slightly. A young girl stared out at the small congregation, her dark eyes shining with grief. No older than fifteen, the sleeves of her charcoal grey jumper were pulled over her hands, and a black coat was draped over her shoulders. Her hair, dark and silky, was swept into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, though there was such negligible amount of hair in the ponytail itself that Marik hardly saw the point. She had a wad of palm cards held in her left hand, which was shaking. Her voice, although thick with emotion, was steady, but Marik couldn’t hear any of the words. Most of him still felt like he was at the bottom of a swimming pool, and he couldn’t swim; yet somehow he was able to latch onto the girl behind the podium.

Then he felt something warm against his back. He took in a sharp breath as he realised it was a Millennium Item.

_ Oh fuck, gods, this can’t be good— _

Suddenly, his surroundings changed. A completely different scene materialised around him — the sky became dark, dotted with countless stars, the ground beneath him turned to sand, and everything else disappeared, replaced with wind and emptiness. A moment later, ancient sandstone built itself around him, becoming an elegant courtyard, filled with leafy green plants and worn paths, enclosed by a series of tall archways.

He glanced around frantically, trying to work out where he was, stopping dead as he saw Tadako’s sister still in front of him. Everyone else had disappeared, but she was still there. She was wearing different clothes, not looking at him, not seeing him.

Marik blinked.  _ Wait, what the fuck— _

And then, as quickly as the vision had taken shape, the world snapped back to normal.

“Marik?”

The duelist jumped, startled. He glanced at Hiroki, still next to him, and then the podium. Tadako’s sister was gone. He stared at the empty podium, his mind racing.  _ Was that the Necklace doing that? Who is she? Was she— _

“Marik, can you hear me?”

Marik felt a prick of irritation as he was forced to stop his train of thought. He glanced at Hiroki, feigning a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Hiroki eyed him skeptically through his silky dark bangs. “Are you sure? You blanked out for a solid half hour. Like, you were even less responsive than before.”

“Really?”  _ Did half an hour pass just then? _

“Yeah, but you seem fine now. Do you feel okay?”

“No worse than before,” he said, his head feeling oddly light. “Better, actually.”

Hiroki scrutinised him for a moment longer, and then nodded, satisfied. “Okay then, if you’re sure.”

Marik nodded. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” As he spoke, he felt the beginning of a headache coming on, but he pushed it back. “I guess I’ll see you later, if you were still okay with talking about Tadako?”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll text you.”

The tomb keeper smiled. “That’d be great.”

Hiroki nodded, standing up, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Cool. See you then.”

“See you.”

Hiroki gave him a curt nod, and then strode away, coat billowing behind him.

Marik stood up too, his head reeling, both from confusion about what happened a few moments and/or half an hour ago, and because his headache was growing rapidly worse. He felt himself getting jittery again, struggling to keep his hands still, stomach turning.  _ I need to leave. I need to get out. _

He considered trying to find Tadako’s sister for a few moments because  _ what the actual fuck,  _ but decided against it. If that vision was the Necklace’s doing, everything would make itself clear in time. Or something. Either way, he couldn’t stand being here a moment longer. He could find her another time.

Gritting his teeth, the pain in his temple worsening, he moved away from the chairs, feeling unsteady on his feet. His eyes were screwed half-shut, and he wondered if, on top of everything else, he was getting a migraine as well. He left the park, rounding a corner, turning into a narrow street lined. That’d be about right. A migraine was only the start of what he deserved.

_ Fucking funerals. _

And then everything suddenly got worse.

Marik let out a broken cry as he felt a stabbing pain in his forehead, as though there was some kind of sharp pressure all through the inside of his skull. He staggered backwards, just as shocked as he was in pain.  _ What the— _

He shrieked as it happened again. His breath began to come in ragged gasps, and he felt as though his chest was being constricted. His legs trembled, threatening to give way entirely. He sank to his knees, threading his fingers through his hair, gripping his head so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His temple throbbed with a slow, steady, agonising rhythm, his thoughts grinding to a complete halt. Spasms wracked his body. He curled into a ball, his elbows resting on the hard black ground, his eyes screwed shut as pain coarsed through him so strongly that it threatened to sweep him away. His head pounded. Voices, memories, ghosts of the past — they assaulted him like a volley of bullets, shattering his skull into pieces, breaking down his resolve. Tears spilled down his cheeks, never-ending. He screamed as he felt familiar, burning pain in his back, but it sounded distant. If the sounds of his own screams weren’t so familiar to him, he wouldn’t have known that scream was his own.

**_slice and slice and slice and slice—_ **

Then the darkness behind his eyelids changed, fading. There was light near him — a sanctuary. He opened his eyes, suddenly pulled back to reality by a pair of bright, glaring lights, racing towards him. He heard a loud blaring noise which seemed to come from everywhere at once, and a rush of air seemed to cut through him. Everything went very slowly, but he couldn’t move. There was a yell — one that wasn’t his own. The light got closer.

Suddenly, Marik felt an arm around his waist, his own arm being thrown over someone’s shoulder. His vision spun as he was lifted upwards, his feet dragging along the ground as he was carried away from the lights speeding towards him and  _ oh shit, that was a car. _

His neck snapped around as he watched the car speed past, headlights glittering. Terror coursed through his veins, and he realised he was shaking violently. He took another moment to process who his rescuer was — someone shorter then himself, with inky black hair. He couldn’t see her face — he’d been thrown half over her shoulder. He saw a shoe, her shoe, in the middle of the road behind them, bent and crumpled, the sole collapsed, heel snapped, straps mangled. He swallowed, his heart leaping to his throat.  _ Fuck. That could’ve been me. _

He was set down, his back propped against the wall of the building on the opposite side of the street. His rescuer stepped back, crouching in front of him, letting him recover, dark eyes wide — the irises were so dark, they might as well have been black.

Marik stared at her, eyes widening as he suddenly recognised her. “T-Tadako’s sister?”

The other Kioru blinked, frowning. “Yeah, Akira. You…you were at the funeral.” She spoke slowly, a little breathless. “You were in the crowd.”

“I— yeah. Thank yo—”

Then, as quickly as the car had approached, the excruciating pain in his forehead returned. Unprepared, a shout of alarm escaped him, and he clutched his head, doubling over, his breath coming hard and fast. It was as though someone was taking a drill and boring it into his skull, from every possible direction.

“A-are you okay!?”

“No, I— _ aaah!” _

Kioru reached for her phone. “Hold on, I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“Wha—  _ NO—!”  _

Marik didn’t know what this was, but he knew he didn’t want to get anyone else involved. Panicking, he found the strength to pull his backpack off his shoulders, reaching for the Rod. Kioru didn’t look twice at it, lifting the phone to her ear. “Hi, I’ve come across someone—”

**_shut up shut up shut up shut up!_ **

Marik gripped the rod tightly, taking a long, deep, shuddering breath, holding the rod out, screwing up his eyes, focusing every shred of his willpower into getting that phone out of Kioru’s hands. A yellow aura surrounded it, and it was torn out of her hands, flying briefly through the air before smashing against the wall. Kioru’s head whipped back towards him, her eyes wide with shock, full of questions. The Rod clattered to the ground, and the pain intensified — Marik curled into himself more, his head between his knees.

Kioru stared at the Rod, and then at Marik. “Okay then.”

Marik gritted his teeth, trying not to think about the consequences of so blatantly using the Rod in front of someone who knew nothing about anything, which wasn’t very hard, considering the fact that his head felt like it might explode at any moment. Kioru edged towards him, placing a hand on his back as his breath hitched, again and again and again and again. She watched him carefully, her eyes bright with concern and unease. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Marik nodded, swallowing, meeting her gaze briefly before pain forced his eyes shut again. His senses were overloaded — everything was loud and bright and painful and looking at anything was too much.

Kioru was still unsettled, on edge, following what Marik had done with the Rod. Whenever anything made a noise, she would look around to make sure no one else was watching them, her eyes like a hawk’s. Her feet were braced against the pavement, ready to run at any moment. But she sat there, silently, waiting for Marik to recover. Something about her presence was calming. It banished the shadows threatening to creep up on him. The pain in his forehead lessened.

Marik stared at the road, his head throbbing, brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. The funeral had unlocked a door; the door to the room where he’d shoved all his anxiety, all his regrets. All his misgivings about his father — they’d bubbled up when he hadn’t been expecting them, hadn’t been prepared. He just needed to find the key to that door and lock it all up again, and everything would be fine. 

Everything would be fine.

Except he’d dragged someone else into everything. Kioru Akira.

Kioru Akira, who he’d had some kind of vision about only minutes ago. He pinched the bridge of his nose, head spinning. _Gods, what the fuck is going on…_

She waited patiently while he got a hold of himself. The pain in his skull was still there, still sharp and fresh, but it wasn’t as intense. He could block it out, for the most part. He stared at the pavement, his breathing still ragged. “I…I think I’m okay now."

Kioru eyed him carefully. She removed his hand from her chest, letting go of his wrist. “Give me your phone.”

“I— what?”

“You broke mine, so I need to borrow yours.”

Marik looked at her, his eyes uncertain. “Promise me you’re not going to call anyone.”

“No, I— no. That’s not what I had in mind.”

He hesitated, and then reached into his pocket, handing it over, leaning backwards, resting his head against the wall and staring at the sky as the girl next to him typed something. The clouds were light, and fluffy. Serene.

Kioru handed the phone back to him. There was a gif on the screen — a circle, moving in and out. “Synchronise your breathing with this.”

Marik’s eyes widened slightly with surprise, his expression softening. He took the phone gratefully, holding it on both hands, making an effort to do as she said. He took a slow breath in, and then started coughing.

Kioru leaned back against the wall, glancing at him. “You still haven’t told me your name.” Her voice carried a hint of both wariness and worry.

“Y-yeah. It’s Marik,” he choked out, focusing on the gif. 

Kioru was silent as Marik slowed his breathing down. Inhale, exhale. 

_ What the fuck was that? _

Inhale, exhale.

_ That hasn’t happened since… _

Inhale, exhale.

_ Calm down. I-It was just the funeral. The funeral got you all…stressed out… _

Inhale, exhale.

Satisfied that his breathing was steadier, and that he was calm, he turned to Kioru. “Thank you.”

Kioru nodded, looking away. “I-it was nothing.”

“Kioru, that car would’ve hit me,” he insisted. “You saved my life.”

Kioru glanced at him, looking self-conscious, speaking quickly. “Akira’s fine — after that, it wouldn’t be right to ask you to be formal. Besides, it really was nothing. I heard you screaming and came to see what was going on…I did what anyone else would’ve done, right? I couldn’t watch…not after…”

Her gaze clouded.

_ Oh. _

There was a long pause. Marik wasn’t sure what he could say. Finally, Kioru— no, Akira spoke, her voice tight: “I couldn’t watch anyone else die, okay?”

Marik swallowed. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

Akira paused, and then shook her head as if to clear it, slumping back against the wall, looking almost exasperated. “It’s the only thing about this damn mess that makes sense,” she said quietly, her eyes dark, fixed on the pavement.

_ FUCKING MOOD. _ Screaming internally, Marik could only nod.

Nothing was making sense — the vision, Bakura’s reappearance, Tadako’s death. Although regarding that last thing, Akira was even more clueless than Marik was, not knowing about the Millennium Items. There were so many things he could tell her, things he could explain, things that would mean everything made even a little bit more sense. Things she would probably ask about anyway, given that he’d seen her use the Rod. Sure, it would create as many questions as it answered, but she deserved to know. Besides, if he’d seen her in that vision, she was probably connected to them somehow anyway. He picked the Rod up off the ground, turning it over in his hands. “I should probably explain…do you know what this is?”

Her eyes locked onto the Rod, her voice sharp. “No, I don’t.”

Marik hesitated. He knew he was either doing something right, or fucking up magnificently. Probably both. He took one last deep breath. 

“Could you ever believe in magic?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a time :o
> 
> By the way, I have a tumblr, [briar-writes](https://brightbriar-writes.tumblr.com/%22)! I might occasionally post about Not Guilty if enough people are interested, and I'd be super duper happy to answer any asks! ^^ 
> 
> Sorry this update took so long! I started uni and things got a bit chaotic, coupled with me getting stuck on a part of this chapter, but I'm determined not to let this happen again :D


	6. Chapter Five: Magic 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik and Akira have a talk. Meanwhile, Marik isn't the only person interested in Tadako's case.

_“Tomorrow. 7am. Here.”_

7am was earlier than Marik would have liked, but given that Akira had saved his life minutes earlier, Marik hadn’t really been in a position to complain.

The next morning, he left KaibaCorp when the sky was still gradient of soft, warm colour. Wrapped in every remotely warm piece of clothing that he owned, he caught the train at quarter past six. Resting his head against the window, he tried to strike a balance between looking out of it and watching his breath fog it up. He had all of the Items with him, although the more he thought about it, the more he wondered whether they had the potential to cause more problems than they solved.

He’d been up late, thinking about the vision he’d had during the funeral. All he could tell from it was that at some point, Kioru Akira either had been, or would be, in a courtyard in the desert. And, given that the Millennium Items were involved, this desert was probably somewhere in Egypt. But he couldn’t tell whether it was a vision of the past, or of the future, or why it was even significant. Why _she_ was significant.

He also hadn’t quite made up his mind in terms of how much he would tell her. He would tell her about shadow magic and the Items, for sure, given that she’d already seen him use the Rod, and given that the vision suggested she probably had something to do with everything anyway. He would tell her about the possible connection to Tadako, since he was her brother — if he was telling her about shadow magic, it seemed right to tell her that too.

But he wouldn’t go into too much detail about Battle City. There were some things about Battle City that it would be better if no one talked about. Things that he didn’t want anyone else to know. The things that he did.

The thing he became.

When he arrived at the park, Akira was already there, sitting on one of the benches. She wore lighter colours today — her black coat had been swapped for a pastel hoodie, black jeans for pale blue, with ripped knees. Her face was obscured by the cowl of her hood, staring at her shoes, deep in thought.

He swallowed, anxiety rising in his stomach, not really looking forward to this conversation. But, just for a moment, all of that melted away when he realised she’d brought a dog.

The dog noticed Marik first — huge, white, and somewhat resembling a marshmallow, it got to its feet and started wagging its tail as soon as Marik approached, tongue lolling. Its black eyes shone with excitement, and Marik crouched down, grinning in kind. “ _Dog!_ ”

The dog barked, tugging on its leash — Akira looked up, her eyes flickering with recognition, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “Hey, Marik.”

Marik hardly noticed her — he’d only seen dogs up close a few times, and had never actually touched one. And Akira’s dog was the most adorable thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Its pointed ears were pricked, its nose twitching as it trotted up to Marik, tailed by Akira. The duelist glanced at Akira, hardly able to contain himself, sure he was grinning inexplicably widely. “I-is it okay if I pat him?”

Akira smiled softly, bemused. “Yeah, sure. His name’s Momotarō, but he responds to just ‘Momo’.”

Marik beamed, kneeling down in front of Momo. “ _Heyyyy, Momo!_ Oh my gosh, you’re so cute. I—” Marik broke off, his hand hovering above Momo’s nose, unsure of where the best place to pat him was. Momo nudged Marik’s hand with his nose, and Marik laughed. “ _Heyyyy!”_

“He really likes it behind his ears, just here,” Akira grinned, giving them a scratch. Right on cue, Momo leaned into her touch, throwing his weight against her leg.

Marik’s eyes widened, his mind racing to process how cute this dog was. He found himself using a tone of voice which both felt and sounded completely foreign to him, as though whatever was usually in his larynx had been replaced with sunshine and rainbows. “Do you want me to scratch your ears too, Momo? Do you? _Do you?_ ” 

Momo looked at Marik as though he very obviously Did, wagging his tail.

Marik hesitated, then pushed his fingers into Momotarō’s thick fur. His eyes widened. _Holy shit. It’s. So soft. Holy shit._

Momotarō wagged his tail furiously as Marik fondled his ears, warmth swelling in his chest, absolutely overwhelmed with the lightest, happiest feeling he could imagine. He glanced up at Akira, doing his best to act normally, as though petting a dog wasn’t the single greatest thing he’d ever done in his life. “So he’s your dog?”

Akira’s gaze went blank for a moment, before turning dark. “He…he is now.”

Marik blinked, frowning, at least 80% of his mental capacity still taken up with ‘ _DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG DOG’._ Then he realised. The light happy feeling died away, and he swallowed, looking anywhere but her eyes. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

Momo looked between them, sensing a change in the atmosphere. He nudged Marik’s hand, a silent request for more patting.

Only then did Marik notice how tired Akira looked. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her posture was hunched and stiff. The duelist swallowed, feeling awkward — someone else making a mistake like that about almost any aspect of his childhood would shake him severely, but he wasn’t sure whether Akira was the same. He didn’t want to make anything worse, even though the nature of this entire conversation made that almost inevitable. “I um…do you want to sit down and talk?”

Akira nodded, turning away from him. “Mm. That would be good.”

She gave Momotarō’s leash a little tug, leading them back to the bench she’d been waiting on before. Sitting down heavily, she pulled a bar of chocolate out of her pocket, breaking it in half. “Want some?”

Marik blinked, taking it. “Yeah, thanks. Where’d you get it?.”

She ducked her gaze, glancing at the frozen ground. “Oh, I-I’ve always kept some on me as a comfort food since— _hey, down Momo_! This’ll make you sick!” she snapped, whisking the chocolate away from the dog. 

Momo immediately looked at Marik hopefully, his eyes round. He plopped his head on Marik’s lap and looked up at him and _holy shit_ , Marik knew puppy dog eyes were supposed to make you weak, but coming from an _actual_ puppy dog, they were _powerful_. Still, he shook his head sadly, popping the rest of the chocolate in his mouth. “Sorry, Momo. You can’t have this.”

Akira nodded, giving Momotarō a quick pat behind his ears as if to say sorry. “Anyway, about yesterday…”

Marik swallowed. “Yeah. Yesterday.”

There was a short, slightly uncomfortable silence as Marik tried to work out where to start. Akira broke it, speaking incredibly quickly: “I— I’m sorry, I just have so many questions about so many things, and I don’t know if you want me to ask them, or if you want me to just shut up so you can explain everything in an order that makes sense, and like, I’ve been thinking about whatever magic you mentioned yesterday a lot, and I’m really sorry, I’-I’m rambling, and I’ve hardly slept. Sorry.”

Marik blinked. “Akira, slow down, it’s fi—”

“Wait, I mean, sorry, I don’t mean it’s your fault I haven’t slept! I was up thinking about yesterday, of course, but I haven’t slept properly since Tadako died, so—” She broke off, staring at nothing for a few moments, before continuing: “So I can’t really blame you. My sleep schedule isn’t your fault, not your responsibility, forget I said anything. And I’m sorry I had to go yesterday — I was worried that my parents were looking for me, and they were probably worried since I wasn’t picking up the phone, and all of us have been really fragile since Tadako, and I didn’t want them to panic. Fuck. I probably seemed all calm and tough yesterday, but I’m really not. I mean, you can probably see that now. I’m kind of a mess—”

“Akira.” Marik placed one hand on her shoulder — she’d shrunk down into her hoodie, making herself as small as possible. “It’s okay.”

Akira looked at him, something in her eyes almost fearful. Panicking. She swallowed, taking a deep breath, gently removing Marik’s hand. She rolled her shoulders to release the tension in them. “Right. Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“I— okay.” Akira bowed her head, folding her hands in her lap, her voice hard. “I just— it’s been a rough few days.”

Marik nodded. “Did you still want to talk about everything now? Since you’re a bit—”

She met his eye, her gaze suddenly turning almost icy. “ _Yes_. Why, do you think I couldn’t handle it at the moment?”

Marik’s eyes widened, taken by surprise by her sudden harshness. “No, no, not at all. I just wasn’t sure if you needed a few moments to breathe.” _Like yesterday._

Akira paused, her gaze softening. “Right. Sure. Sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

Akira was still for a minute or so. Momotarō lay down and rested his head on his paws, still wagging his tail. Finally, she looked back at Marik. “So…what was up with that gold stick?” Her voice shook slightly, as though deep down, she already knew she was getting into some serious shit.

Marik swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous, praying to every god he knew of that telling her everything was the right decision. “It’s called the Millennium Rod. It’s one of the seven Millennium Items.”

Akira raised an eyebrow at him. “The Millennium Items?”

“Yeah.”

“That sounds like something out of some trashy fantasy novel,” she said wryly.

“Wrong way around. I bet trashy fantasy novel magic is unconsciously stealing from the real stuff, if you go back far enough.”

“Hm. I guess so.”

Marik shrugged. “Anyway, the Millennium Items. There are seven of them, and they come from Ancient Egypt. With them, their wielders could harness shadow magic in order to play shadow games, either to prove one’s strength, or to bring about some kind of justice. The loser of the shadow game was usually dealt some kind of penalty game.”

“Penalty game?”

“A supernatural punishment, usually involving a coma. Or death.”

“Oh.”

Marik smiled grimly. “Yeah. Eventually, the soul of an ancient pharaoh, Atem, became trapped in one of these Items, the Millennium Puzzle. For thousands of years, the seven Items were protected by a group of people called Tomb Keepers, who waited for the pharaoh’s return.” He glanced at her, leaning forward. “Sorry, this is kind of a lot all at once.”

“Yeah. Kind of.” The teenager leaned back in her seat, her eyes dark with unease. There was a long pause, then: 

“But if the pharaoh’s soul was trapped, how would he ever be able to return?”

“Have you heard of the Book of the Dead?”

Akira’s shoulders tensed slightly, almost imperceptibly. “It sounds vaguely familiar.”

“It’s a book, thousands of years old, about the Ancient Egyptians’ idea of the afterlife, which goes into all sorts of things, like the different gods that were associated with death, and the underworld, and the nature of the soul. Long story short, if something went wrong with all the proper burial rituals, the soul of the deceased would go through something called the ‘second death’, where a part of their soul would disappear, and then be reborn 3000 years later. So the Tomb Keepers waited for those 3000 years to be up.”

“Then…has the pharaoh come back yet?”

Marik nodded. “Yeah, he did. Only three or four years ago.”

“Wait, _what?_ That recently?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But…did you have all the Millennium Items back then too? If his soul was in this Puzzle thing, were you there when—”

“I didn’t have the Puzzle when it happened. Yugi Mutou did.”

Akira’s eyes widened. “ _What?_ But…what does that _mean?_ Did Yugi meet the Pharaoh?”

Marik smiled. “He did more than meet the pharaoh. He and Yugi shared a mental link, and even a body. Through the Puzzle, Atem could use Yugi as his vessel.”

Akira frowned, looking a bit unsure about the idea. “You’re telling me Atem _possessed_ Yugi?”

“Yeah.”

“…You’re awfully calm about it.”

Marik nodded. “I mean, I grew up around all of this — the Items, and shadow magic.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I was a Tomb Keeper.”

Akira’s gaze snapped towards him, turning so sharply Marik swore he heard her neck crack. Her eyes were wide with something like awe. “Oh, shit. Wow.”

Marik ducked his head slightly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “It’s not a big deal, really. It was just the lineage I was born into.”

“Yeah, but, I don’t know…that’s kind of cool? To be protecting all of this magic and secrets?”

_Cool is…definitely not the word, but okay._ “I-In a way, I guess,” he choked out. Anything to avoid going into what being a Tomb Keeper had truly been like.

Akira, sensing his discomfort, looked at him curiously for a moment, before dropping the subject. She paused, before saying, “Can you tell me more about the pharaoh? Did you ever meet him?”

“Hm?”

“I-I don’t know, if you were a Tomb Keeper, and this happened in your lifetime, then you probably met him, right? Do you know what he was like?”

Marik blinked. She wasn’t wrong, even if there was more to it than that. “I mean…yeah, I did meet him. He…” 

_He was everything I’m not._

“He was everything you’d expect a pharaoh to be. Honourable. Proud. Protective of people he cared about, to a fault.”

Akira frowned. “In that he’d die for them?”

“Yeah, and that he’d kill you if you so much as laid a finger on them.”

“Oh. But he’s not still here?”

Marik shook his head. “No — when he returned, with his soul in the Puzzle, he had no memories of who he was before. Once he got those memories back, and learned his name, he was able to pass through to the Egyptian afterlife, where he belonged.”

Akira’s eyes narrowed, dark with confusion as she stared intently into the trees. “You mean he _wanted_ to die? If he had the option to stay, why wouldn’t he take it?”

Marik blinked, surprised. “I hadn’t thought about that before. I suppose he had friends from his first life who were waiting for him in the afterlife. People he cared about who were already there.”

“Still…” She stared across the park for a few moments more, before blinking the thought away. She looked back at Marik, saying, “Also, with the Millennium Items, what else do they do? Because you did something with the Rod yesterday, but that wasn’t a shadow game, was it?”

“No, you’re right, it wasn’t. But aside from starting shadow games, they all do something different — something closer to what most people might think of as magic. There’s the Key, which lets its owner see inside a person’s soul room, which is like the manifestation of their Ka, their personality. Whoever owns the Key can even ‘redecorate’ the soul room, as it were, changing their personality, or bending them to their will.”

Akira swallowed. “That’s...concerning.”

“Yep. Then there’s the Scales, which weighs people’s souls against something called the feather of Ma’at — the heavier the soul, the more evil there is in a person.” _Whatever evil means objectively, anyway._

Akira nodded mutely. Marik went on: “The fourth one is the Ring, which allows the user to move people’s souls between different objects, and can act as a compass, pointing the owner towards whatever they’re looking for.” _Also, it used to literally contain the soul of Satan. And an one other even bigger asshole._

“There’s the Eye, which allows the wielder to read minds, and seal people’s souls in different objects, and the Necklace, which shows the user visions of the future and the past.” He moved on from that one as quickly as he could, just in case Akira asked any questions which could relate to his vision from yesterday. “And the one you saw yesterday is the Millennium Rod, which lets you control people’s minds, and levitate things.” 

Akira blinked, her eyes round. “Yikes.”

Marik laughed. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good summary. That’s why we keep them hidden — all of the items are so powerful that even one of them falling into the wrong hands could be disastrous.”

She nodded, frowning. “And the Puzzle? What else does it do?”

Marik hesitated. “I’m not sure, actually. The Tomb Keepers didn’t have it for centuries. If we ever knew, that knowledge was lost a long time ago. And Yugi never mentioned anything to me.”

Akira nodded. After a few moments, she frowned, saying, “You said you could use the last one to do mind control?”

“Yeah?”

“Then why tell me any of this? Why not just make me forget I saw anything?”

Marik swallowed, meeting her gaze. He couldn’t tell her the whole truth, about the Necklace, and the vision. Not when he didn’t know what it meant.

Also, telling her might spook her even more. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was the other reason. It was the only way he could think of approach this, but he’d be on very thin ice.

“Marik?”

_Just do it. Quickly. Like a band-aid._

“Because I think they had something to do with Tadako’s death.”

Akira froze. Her eyes darkened, narrowing, and she shrunk into her hoodie. Even without the presence of the Rod in his backpack, Marik would’ve been able to feel her mind working, trying to connect dots, trying to make sense of it all. Her voice wavered slightly as she choked out a reply: “H-how?”

Marik hesitated. “They…well, it wouldn’t be the first time the Millennium Items interfered with a Duel Monster’s match.”

She took in a sharp breath. “Okay. Go on.”

“Do you remember the Battle City tournament held by Seto Kaiba, two years ago?”

“Mm. Tadako thought about participating, but hated the ante rule,” she said quietly. “He didn’t want to lose the cards he loved, nor did he want to take them from anyone else.”

Marik nodded. “It’s probably just as well. In that tournament, four of the eight finalists had Millennium Items, and…well, things got messy. Half of the finalists were hospitalised at one point or another, but it was able to be kept quiet because the whole thing took place on the blimp.”

“But they’re just _card games,_ ” she said, almost angrily, staring into the empty air. “Why are— why were people getting hurt? _”_

“Because the Items were being used to start shadow games. The penalty games were what put people’s lives in danger.”

“And you think that’s what happened to Tadako. A penalty game…”

Marik nodded.

Akira was silent, almost glaring into the trees. She took a deep breath, and then pinched the bridge of her nose. “What the hell is this, some kind of a shit-for-brains joke?”

_I wish._

Akira sighed. “Sorry, I just—”

“No, don’t apologise. It’s…a lot.”

She nodded, her shoulders slackening slightly. Then, suddenly, she sat up straighter. “Wait.”

“Hm?”

She turned to face him. “You were one of the Battle City finalists.”

“I—”

“Tadako mentioned it. He was doing research on how Yugi had dueled against other opponents, and what kind of strategy he used. He tried to look into Battle City, since he knew Yugi won, but the only thing he could find out about your duel with him was your name. Is…did that have something to do with the Millennium Items? What exactly happened?”

Marik swallowed nervously. _FUCK. THIS IS NOT WHERE THIS CONVERSATION WAS SUPPOSED TO GO. NOT THAT DUEL. NOT_ HIM _. NOPE._ _MAKE AN EXCUSE. CREATE A DIVERSION._

“Kaiba was careful to keep exactly what happened during Battle City under wraps, because with all the shadow games, no one would participate in KaibaCorp tournaments if they thought they might get hurt. So that’s why Tadako probably couldn’t find anything on it,” he said quickly. _Also I super don’t don’t don’t want to talk about everything else that was wrong with that duel, please don’t ask some kind of follow-up—_

“But…what _exactly_ was Kaiba trying to hide?”

_FUCK._

He swallowed, searching for anything to say except for ‘my psychotic other self, whose favourite hobby is stabbing people to death’. “I mean, people were getting injured—”

“ _Marik._ ”

Marik turned his head away, refusing to look at her. _No. No. We’re not going there._ He swallowed. “I— I can’t tell you. It was hidden for a reason.”

“But—”

“If I told you it all has nothing to do with Tadako, would you be satisfied?” he snapped, his voice cracking. 

Akira flinched. There was a long pause. Then, quietly: “I guess.”

“…Thank you,” he said stiffly.

“Don’t mention it. I…I’m just trying to make sense of all of this. The Millennium Items. Shadow games. Tadako…”

“Yeah. Of course. I just…I don’t like to think about what happened with me during Battle City.”

She nodded, her eyes round with concern, but didn’t press the subject. “Sure. I’m sorry I asked. Really.”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t know.”

“Can I ask one thing, though?”

“I can’t promise you’ll get an answer.”

“Okay, it’s just, no one actually _died_ in Battle City, did they?”

Marik swallowed. There was _that one person_. But Akira didn’t need to know about him. He was gone now. “…No, but there were a few close calls.”

The teenager nodded, swallowing. “Right. Okay.” She glanced at him, smiling softly. “That’s good, at least. From what I can tell, the people who were part that tournament must’ve be alright.”

Marik laughed awkwardly. _AHAHAHA nOPE. ALL OF US ARE TRAUMATISED PIECES OF TRASH AND BELONG IN THE GARBAGE CAN._ “Um…maybe?”

Akira grinned, elbowing him in the ribs. “It’s a compliment, stupid. I’m saying I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Oh. Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” she laughed, her dark eyes shining. She sat back in her seat, glancing at him. “By the way, did you um…did you maybe have the Millennium Items with you?”

Marik blinked. “Yeah, actually. You wanted to see them?”

She nodded sheepishly. “Mm, if that’s okay.”

Marik glanced around, checking no one else was there to see them, then removed his backpack and unzipped it. The Millennium Items glittered in the sunlight — he took out the Rod, since it was on the top, and then reached for anything but the Necklace. Usually, it would be the safest one to show someone else, but given the vision yesterday, he didn’t want to take any chances with it. He grabbed the Key instead, passing it to Akira. “There you go. That’s one of them.”

Akira took it, holding it delicately, as though it might break in her hands. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Yeah. It’s made of solid gold.”

“ _Shit_ ,” she said, her eyes widening. “I guess that’s one more reason why you’d want Tomb Keepers to protect them.”

Marik nodded, turning the Rod over in his hands, making sure to hold it so that his hand covered the top of the blade’s sheath, so that Akira wouldn’t realise the Rod had two parts to it. He didn’t feel like explaining that one.

“Can I see the Puzzle too?”

“Hm?”

Akira smiled apologetically. “I mean, it held the soul of a Pharaoh, and that’s pretty cool, right? I-I don’t know, I’m just curious about it, if that’s okay…”

“No, no, it’s fine! Here—” He reached back into the backpack, giving Momotarō a quick pat with his free hand, pulling the Puzzle out.

Akira took it carefully, holding it in both hands. “It doesn’t have any souls in it now, though, does it?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Marik grinned.

“How can you tell?”

“Well, you can’t,” Marik admitted. “Not just by holding it, and not even by putting it on, since if some kind of spirit was in there, it could choose not to show itself, unless you force it somehow. But there’s no reason why there would be one there now.”

Akira nodded, eyeing the Puzzle curiously. “Mm. I don’t know, it feels like it has so much… _energy_ , I guess?”

Marik blinked, impressed. “You can feel that?”

“I-I don’t know, maybe? I mean, maybe you’d get that feeling holding any ancient object, or maybe it’s just awe--”

“No, no, they do radiate a kind of energy,” Marik said. “I’ve always thought it feels the same as shadow magic, but weaker. Not everyone can feel it though.”

Akira frowned. “I don’t know. If that’s the case, I’m probably imagining it. It _is_ faint.” She placed the Puzzle in her lap, her eyes narrowed, thinking again. “So, with Tadako…”

“Yeah?”

“If only people with a Millennium Item can start shadow games, and the duel between Tadako and Yugi really _was_ a shadow game, wouldn’t it just be a matter of working out who had which Items at the time of the duel? Whoever had the Items when the duel happened must have done it, right?”

Marik swallowed. “ _I_ had all seven Millennium Items when the duel happened. And I still do.”

She blinked. “Oh, right, sorry. Wait, then how could—”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know how someone else could have started a shadow game without them, but there was an incident a year ago involving a so-called eighth Millennium Item, so there could be more. Or someone might have found a way to start a shadow game through some other means.”

Akira frowned, tracing the edges of the Puzzle pieces with her thumb. “What incident last year?”

Marik paused. “I don’t know that much about it, to be honest. I wasn’t in Japan at the time, when it happened. Yugi would be a better person to ask.”

She nodded, deep in thought. “Was that when KaibaCorp released its new duel disk? Mutou and Kaiba dueled, but there was some kind of blackout across Domino City, but no one knew exactly what hap—”

She broke off suddenly, flinching away from something invisible, her eyes wide, slightly glazed over. Marik adjusted his grip on the Rod. “Akira?”

The young girl was completely still for a few more moments. Then she blinked, pitching forwards slightly, her breathing coming quickly. 

Marik frowned. “Are you okay?”

Akira hesitated, looking at the Puzzle, and then at him, her eyes wide with alarm. “Fine,” she said shakily. 

“What just happened?”

“N-Nothing, I don’t think.” She handed the Puzzle back to him, not quite meeting his eye.

Marik narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

Marik hesitated — he knew she wasn’t telling him something, but he didn’t want to accuse her of lying. “Alright. But if something—”

“It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

Marik bit his lip, saying nothing.

Akira swallowed. “Right. Well…” she trailed off, her gaze sincere, solemn. “Thank you for telling me about all of this. Really. I know it’s a big deal.”

Marik shrugged, pushing his hands into his pockets, putting whatever had just happened aside. “I couldn’t _not_ tell you. You deserve some answers.” 

_Besides, if anything happened to Ishizu or Rishid, I’d…I’d want to know why..._

“I really appreciate it. But I just have one more question…”

“Yeah?”

“Why were you at the funeral yesterday?”

Marik blinked, only just realising he hadn’t explained that. “Oh! Well, I’m actually hoping to work out exactly what happened a few days ago. How the duel became a shadow game. Who was behind that.”

Akira’s eyes widened, bright with something like hope. “Really? You’ll tell me if you find anything, won’t you?”

Marik nodded. “Yeah, of course! I’d ask for your phone number, but…” he trailed off, looking guilty. It was his fault Akira didn’t have a phone at the moment.

“Oh, right, don’t worry about that. Here, my number should be the same once I get a new phone, I’ll write it down for you…”

After typing her phone number into Marik’s notes, Akira gave Momotarō’s leash a gentle tug, signalling to the dog that they were about to leave. Marik gave Momo one last pat, and Akira nodded politely to Marik, smiling, although her eyes were filled with unease. “It was good to talk you you. Thank you, again, for everything. I guess I’ll see you again soon?”

An image of a young girl in a courtyard flashed in his mind, and he nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure you will.”

 

* * *

 

Takeda Satoshi sat in a large office chair, his feet resting on the edge of the seat, his chin on his knees as he stared at his computer, the blueness of his eyes intensified by the blue light. He’d been in this position for hours, and he was beginning to feel stiff, his back a little sore, but he hardly noticed. He was focused on one thing.

Yugi Mutou.

He hadn’t been on the police force for long, but it had been long enough for him to pick up on a certain inside joke that had pervaded the force for years. Four years ago, there had been a string of incidents that no one could explain. Murders, arson, and other hospitalisations. And every time, this kid with ridiculous hair had been nearby. Impossible to miss on the security footage, Mutou seemed to have made a habit of hanging out around the places where these incidents occurred, up to a day before they happened. Every time the investigators failed to find any rhyme or reason behind what exactly had happened and why, once they were sure they’d reached a dead end, they would joke that the kid with the hair did it, and then go out for drinks.

And now, the kid with the hair was at the centre of another murder.

From the moment he heard about the case, Takeda had been suspicious of Mutou, hair notwithstanding. Surely it wasn’t just coincidence that Kioru Tadako had died the _moment_ he lost the duel. But surely it wasn’t _also_ a coincidence that Mutou, given his proximity to these unsolved cases from four years ago, had been opposite Tadako in the dueling stadium?

So he’d gone back, and he’d studied the footage from the unsolved cases carefully. He’d been shocked to find there were almost no gaps in the footage — somehow, perhaps by coincidence, KaibaCorp’s cameras always seemed to be trained on Mutou at every possible moment, _except_ for when the incidents actually occurred. (He had half a mind to query KaibaCorp about this, but given Seto Kaiba’s current rumoured condition, he wasn’t sure he’d get very far.) He’d gone over Inspector Nakamura’s notes from that time, trying to find patterns, connections, clues, but so far, it had amounted to nothing, only confirming that Mutou was always present before everything went wrong.

_Just like Tadako…_

He took in a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Don’t think. Don’t think about him. It’ll only make it hurt more—_

“Takeda? You’re still here—“

“ _AAH!”_

The young detective jumped as someone else entered the room, dropping a pen he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He spun around in his chair, to see Ushio, another new recruit, coming in with two mugs of coffee. The other police officer was part of a different division of the force, but since they’d started at the same time, the pair had formed a kind of alliance that wasn’t quite a friendship, but was more than being mere acquaintances. Somewhat resembling both a tree and a boulder, Ushio was a head and a half taller than Takeda, twice as broad, four times as strong, and an intimidating figure no matter how you looked at it. And aside from that, Takeda had grown used to the silence of the offices late at night, and hadn’t been expecting someone else to come in. “Jesus Christ, Ushio! You scared me!”

Ushio smirked. “No kidding. I can’t believe you’re still here though — everyone else went home hours ago. What’re you doing, anyway?”

“I could say the same about you,” Takeda retorted.

Ushio sighed, looking put out. “My boss asked me to stay behind and clean up all the mess in the lobby — some idiots decided to have a duel in there, holograms and all. In a space as small as that, I don’t know what they expected to happen.”

Takeda frowned. “Surely the holograms didn’t make a mess? They don’t have any physical substance.”

“No, but the duelists got a little bit too excited. Started yelling and jumping around.”

“Aah.”

Ushio shrugged, setting the second cup of coffee down next to Takeda. “Anyway, that’s yours.”

“With—”

“ _Yes_ , with six sugars, you heathen,” Ushio laughed, clapping him on the back so hard Takeda felt his heart leap to his throat.

“T-thanks, Ushio…”

He picked up the coffee, and Ushio pulled up a chair next to him, seeing Mutou’s face on the screen. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “So, you’ve got the Kioru case, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m part of the team.”

Ushio nodded, leaning in closer, examining the image. “Yugi seems younger there…”

Takeda blinked in surprise at Ushio calling Mutou ‘Yugi’. “Yeah, that’s right. How would you know?”

“Oh, he and I were in High School together.”

Takeda cocked his head to one side. “All through High School?”

“Just about, yeah.”

“…This might seem a little odd, but can I ask you about some stuff?”

Ushio eyed him warily. “Depends on what it is you’re asking.”

“Nothing personal, don’t worry. But do you remember a chain of odd occurrences happening around your school four years ago?”

Ushio paused, then his gaze darkened, and he laughed. “Define ‘remember’. I remember people talking about everything that happened, but there are some gaps in my memory personally.”

Takeda frowned. “What?”

Ushio smirked, leaning back in his chair, sipping his own coffee. “What do _you_ know about these ‘occurrences’?”

“Oh, um— there was an escaped criminal who got set on fire, but no one in the restaurant where it happened could see exactly how. There was another fire near some docks, where three people were severely burned, but no one could discern the cause. _Another_ fire was started when a barbecue grill _exploded_ , hospitalising yet another student. A series of people slipped into a coma for no apparent reason, including a gym teacher at Domino High. _And_ an archaeologist who’d been digging up the tomb of Horemheb died as well, and this was all in a matter of weeks,” he said.

Ushio blinked. “I guess that’s most of the ones that would have reached the police. But I was caught up in all of that too.”

“Wha— you were?!”

“Yeah, right at the start. Apparently I started hallucinating right outside the school. It was just as all of this was beginning, and it lasted around two weeks, I think.”

“Was Yugi Mutou involved?” Takeda asked, sitting up straighter. “I mean— did anything about him seem odd to you around that time?”

Ushio shook his head. “I’m sorry — like I said, I don’t actually remember. The day before, and the weeks after I was hallucinating, are a complete blank for me.”

Tadeka slumped back in his chair, disappointed. “That’s too bad. I’m wondering whether these instances from four years ago could be connected to Ta— Kioru’s case.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because Mutou was _always there!_ It’s a _meme_ in my department because his hair’s so ridiculous. You can’t miss him in the security footage — every single time something happened, he was there right before it did. But it’s as if all the cameras go haywire as soon as whatever happened actually starts playing out.”

Ushio nodded, looking thoughtful. “Actually…I do remember _one_ thing.”

“Hm?”

“Before all those odd things occurred, Yugi didn’t wear that stupid pendant thing around his neck. It always looked ridiculously heavy, so I never knew why he bothered. But it also looked as if it might’ve been made of solid gold or something, so maybe he thought if it was always on him it wouldn’t get stolen.” He waved a hand dismissively, taking another sip out of his mug. “It was probably really old too. At any rate, I don’t remember him wearing it before all of that.”

“Hm…” Takeda frowned. “I’ll think about that. Thanks, Ushio.”

“No worries,” he replied, standing up, just about tripling in height as he did. “I’m heading home. You don’t want a lift, do you?”

“No, I’m staying here.”

“Alright, well, don’t work yourself to death,” the taller man said, making for the door.

Takeda spun around in his chair, smiling wryly. “Is that a challenge?”

Ushio rolled his eyes, grunting in farewell.

Takeda waited until he closed the door, and then opened up the still of Mutou again, properly noticing the strange pendant around his neck for the first time – he’d never seen anything like it before, but he recognised the eye on the front as something vaguely Egyptian.

_They eye of Anubis. Or Horus. Ra. One of them._

He zoomed in, trying to get a better look at the pendant, his eyebrows shooting upwards as he noticed cracks all through it – regular, even cracks. Like puzzle pieces. 

_Fitting…_

The pendant was a puzzle which he was more than willing to solve. Mutou was a puzzle. Tadako was a puzzle…

Taking a sip of his coffee, he narrowed his eyes and opened a new tab.

_I will find out who killed you, Tadako. I’ll find out who they are, and I’ll bring them to justice. I promise._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo so that was a lot of exposition and recapping of things which I’m guessing y’all already mostly knew, hopefully that aspect of this chapter wasn’t boring ^^’
> 
> If anyone picked up the 80s Devilman reference I love you, and I promise, with characters named both Akira and Ryo(u) there will be more XD
> 
> Also, I'm super curious about what y'all think of Akira and Takeda! There will definitely be more of them :)
> 
> And lastly, I'm going to try and update this fic once a month! Feel free to hold me to that haha
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	7. Chapter Six: Evenly Matched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik goes to the police station and— oh, that's not good.

When Marik got back to the KaibaCorp office, Bakura was waiting. “You’ve been a while.”

The duelist glanced over at Bakura as he came in, a couple of bags of groceries in his arms — although he had access to the staff kitchen while he was staying here, it wasn’t exactly set up for someone who was living there full-time. He shrugged, setting the shopping down. “I was meeting with someone.”

“Who?”

Marik hesitated — he’d told Bakura a bit about Akira the previous night, but he hadn’t fully explained that he was meeting with her today. He hadn’t fully explained a lot of things, really. “I-I saw Akira again. The girl who saved me after the funeral.”

Bakura frowned. “Her? What for?”

Marik swallowed nervously. “I told her about the Items.”

The spirit’s eyes widened, his hair almost seeming to become spikier than usual. “You _what?_ ”

He sighed, plopping himself down on the mattress on the floor, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We arranged to meet up yesterday, once the funeral was over. There was no way to avoid it, since she saw me use the Rod. Besides, there was also that vision I had about her, with the Necklace.”

“So you told her about the Items?!”

“Look, Bakura, I don’t think it’s done any harm—”

“Hasn’t done any harm?! Marik, these are the _Millennium Items_ . They’ve _killed someone_.”

Marik frowned at him. He hadn’t expected Bakura to be pleased, but he hadn’t expected him to react this badly either. “Since when did you care that someone’s died?”

The spirit glared. “Don’t you dare try and suggest I’ve gone soft. I only meant they’re dangerous. What if she used that information against you?”

Marik bit his lip. “Well, I couldn’t _not_ tell her. Not after that vision.”

There was a beat. Bakura finally, nodded grudgingly, relaxing slightly. “I suppose that’s true. What did you tell her about exactly?”

“What they are, what they do, a bit about their origins, a bit about Atem.” Marik noticed Bakura stiffened when he said the word ‘origins’, and quickly added, “Not _that_ bit about their origins, though.”

Bakura nodded, turning his head away, apparently embarrassed that Marik had seen him react, gritting his teeth. “Right. And you told her _all_ of that, _just_ because of a vision of her in the desert?”

Marik swallowed. It didn’t sound like such a good idea, when you put it like that. “Y-yeah, pretty much. Why, do you think I shouldn’t’ve?”

Bakura paused, staring out the window, looking thoughtful. “Not necessarily. I’m just not sure why you trust her so much.”

The duelist swallowed. “I…that’s fair. I can’t say I’m sure telling her everything was the right thing either, but…at the very least, I owe her, too. I could’ve been hit by that car yesterday.”

“That doesn’t mean it automatically follows that you should trust her.”

Marik nodded. “I know.”

There was a brief pause. Then Bakura asked, almost stiffly: “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“After yesterday. When you had that panic attack, or whatever.”

“O-oh, yeah, I’m fine. I haven’t been thinking about it. I—”

He broke off as his phone rang, buzzing in his pocket. He frowned, giving it a cursory glance. It was Ryou. He picked up. “Hello?”

_“Marik, Yugi’s been arrested.”_

Marik went completely still — Bakura caught his eye, his gaze turning dark as he realised there was a problem. Marik tightened his grip on the phone. “ _What?_ For Tadako’s murder?”

_“Tadako?”_

“K-Kioru.”

_“Oh, right. Yeah, for that.”_

“They can do that?”

Ryou’s tone, although troubled, was now laced with sarcasm. _“The police? Arresting someone? Boy, now that you mention it, I’m not sure—”_

“Alright, alright, I get it. But surely they’d need some kind of evidence before arresting someone?” _Besides, if they were going to do that, what took them so long? It’s been days…_

_“I don’t know — maybe they’ve found some? I—I don’t know. But Marik, I need to ask you a favour.”_

“Yeah?”

_“Jonouchi and Honda got all confrontational with the police, and now they won’t talk to any of us, since Anzu and I were with them. I… we’ve all heard stories about how badly they treat people they think have broken the law. Do you think you could find out what’s going on over there?”_

Marik nodded, glancing at Bakura, feeling the beginnings of a smirk coming on. This could be fun. “Gladly.”

 

* * *

 

The police station was roughly fifteen minutes downtown from KaibaCorp; however, Marik and Bakura caught a bus, tripling the trip’s length. It was cold and wet — Marik’s sleeves were pulled over his hands, his hood drawn over his head, his toes freezing. Bakura, the wispy bastard, didn’t seem bothered.

They walked into a spacious lobby. Almost deserted, the room had a high ceiling, a polished floor, and was dotted with benches and pot plants. A young woman with short hair sat behind the main desk, while two others stood near the door, speaking in low voices.

“Well, he’s got a lot of nerve if he thinks I can make a case against Mutou based on _that_ , especially as I’m only here for a few months _…_ ”

Marik stopped, frozen. They were talking about Yugi. _Surely that’s a bit too convenient?_

He pulled out his phone, doing his best to look absorbed in staring at the lock screen as he made his way over to a bench near the pair, subtly taking a closer look at them — the man who’d just spoken, wore an expensive-looking wine-red suit, and a frilly cravat so ostentatious he couldn’t _not_ notice it. Though he looked young enough, his hair was completely silver, with long bangs hanging in front of his eyes; not unlike Marik’s own, although they were certainly neater. He didn’t look much like a policeman.

The other man was taller, dark-haired, and broader in the shoulders, wearing a long green coat which seemed worse for wear. “Yeah, no one would argue with you there, pal. Officer Takeda seems pretty convinced, at any rate.”

“Has he been able to get anything out of Mutou so far?” The silver-haired one asked, his head tilted slightly to one side. His eyes were fixed on the man in the coat, glaring intensely, as if he was trying to burn a hole right through him.

The other man seemed unfazed. “Nothing that he was hoping to hear, although he claims that’s a matter of ‘yet’.”

The silver-haired one’s brow furrowed. “What was he hoping to hear?”

“Hoo boy, that’s a long story. It goes back years…”

Marik glanced at Bakura, wondering what the spirit thought about all of this. Bakura held up one finger, as if to shush him, even though the question was silent. “Just listen…”

“…There was a certain series of ‘incidents’ a few years ago — unsolved cases — which Takeda thinks Mutou could also be tied to.”

The silver-haired one raised an eyebrow. “Also involving Duel Monsters?”

“No — if they had involved duel monsters, he might have convinced a few more people about his theory. But a bunch of super weird stuff happened, and no one could explain why, or who was to blame for it. I think you were…not here.”

“…Aah. Go on.”

Marik and Bakura exchanged a glance. Bakura shrugged.

The taller man coughed awkwardly. “Y-yeah, anyway, y’know how Mutou’s hair is really spiky?”

The other one flinched, his eyes narrowing. “Yes?”

“Well, that makes him impossible to miss in the security footage. He’s _always there_ , prior to whatever happened next — a fire, a murder, whatever. But he was never caught doing anything wrong.”

Marik glanced at Bakura, unlocking his phone. He typed something, and then angled the screen towards the spirit: _‘Do you know what that’s about?’_

Bakura peered over at the message. “I’m not certain, but I think I can guess. Let’s say Atem had a… _fun time_ , when he first started possessing Yugi.”

Marik began to type something else, but the man in the suit spoke again, looking thoughtful. “And Takeda thinks Kioru’s death was one coincidence too many…”

“Bingo.”

The silver-haired one considered this for a moment, before glancing out the window, into the rain. “Well, if he can’t even convince his colleagues, there’s no way I’m going be able to convince a judge—”

_A judge?_

_“—_ so until there’s some evidence that’s more conclusive than a ‘string of coincidences’, I can’t be asked to invest my resources in this case.”

Bakura nudged Marik. “So the one in red’s a prosecutor.”

Marik gave Bakura quizzical look. _Prosecutor?_

Bakura pinched the bridge of his nose. “A _lawyer_ , Marik. The kind who tries to get people convicted of whatever crime they’ve been accused of. Maybe if you weren’t so good at avoiding the law, you’d have run into one by now.”

Marik swallowed, ducking his head, feeling as though that was something he probably should have known. Maybe he would have if he hadn’t lived underground for so long.

The one in the green coat was nodding. “Of course not. I think Takeda’ll be glad you heard him out, though.”

 _I should find this ‘Takeda’,_ Marik thought, putting away his phone, getting to his feet. _He seems like he knows…something. Here goes nothing…_

He strode over to the two men, fighting back nerves. “Um, excuse me?”

They both looked around and _by the Gods_ , the lawyer’s constant glaring was much more intimidating when it was being directed at him. The one in the long coat smiled at him, though. “Hey pal, what can we do for you?”

Bakura frowned at him. “Marik, what are you doing?”

Marik ignored him, smiling at the one in the coat, pushing away his discomfort at how easy it was for him to put on a friendly, but hollow facade. “My name’s Marik Ishtar. I’m a friend of Yugi Mutou.”

The lawyer continued to glare at him, completely unreadable, while the one in the coat eyed him warily. “I’m Detective Itonokogiri, and this is Prosecutor Mitsurugi. Didn’t I have to chase you and your other friends out of here before?”

“O-oh, I’m not one of them,” Marik said hastily. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

The detective laughed — a deep, booming laugh that almost echoed through the lobby. “If you don’t want to cause any trouble, then you’re _definitely_ not one of them! Alright pal, what do you want?”

“I was hoping to talk to whoever arrested Yugi.”

The lawyer — Mitsurugi — raised an eyebrow at him. “Whatever for?”

Marik swallowed, wilting slightly under the intensity of that glare. It was like Bakura’s constant glaring, but he was _used_ to that. “I just wanted to ask why he was arrested. And how long he’ll be detained for.” _If I leave without learning that much, Ryou’ll kill me for sure._

“Oh, we can tell you that, no problem!” Itonokogiri said warmly. “See, he was arrested because of what happened the other day, with that poor Kioru kid—”

“But what took so long?” Marik said, with an almost accusatory edge to his tone. “That was days ago, but I heard Yugi wasn’t arrested until this morning.”

“Well, that’s because there was only one detective on the force who thought he was worth arresting — Takeda Satoshi. He’s of a more junior rank, so it took a few days for him to convince someone to issue him with a warrant.”

Marik nodded, feeling the tension which had been knotting up in his stomach release. _So only one person, Takeda Satoshi, thinks Yugi’s guilty, and he doesn’t have a very high rank…_ “And how long will you keep him here for?”

Itonokogiri glanced at Mitsurugi, who folded his arms. “Usually, he’d be kept for up to 23 days before being charged — three days, plus two ten-day extensions. But since I won’t be taking Takeda’s case without any evidence, if Takeda hasn’t got anything useful out of Mutou in the next 72 hours, he’ll be released.”

The duelist smiled, nodding again, his mind racing. If Yugi was forced to so much as drop a hint about shadow games, or the Items, one thing might lead to another, Takeda might get enough evidence, and Mitsurugi might take the case. Marik had heard about the 99% conviction rate across Japan, and he wasn’t going to let Yugi get wrapped up in all of that if he could help it. But It was highly unlikely he’d be allowed to see Yugi. He _had_ to talk to Takeda, and try and get a sense of what he knew.

_Maybe if I used the Rod and asked how to get to Takeda’s office…_

His eyes darted across the tops of the walls — cameras everywhere. He wouldn’t be able to Millennium Rod his way out of this one. _Damn…_

“Was that all, Mr Ishtar?”

Marik almost jumped as he heard Mitsurugi speak again, feeling his veins turn to ice at the words ‘Mr Ishtar’. He’d never been called that before — he’d only ever heard it in address to his father, and instantly, he decided he hated it. “N-no, that wasn’t all…”

The prosecutor eyed him curiously. “Well?”

“I…did you say Takeda Satoshi was the one who arrested Yugi?”

“Yes.”

Marik swallowed. “I still want to talk to him. I…”

_Fuck. Why would they let me see him? What could I possibly want with him?_

“I have…evidence?”

Bakura and Mitsurugi both made an identical expression — disbelief, surprise, and something else Marik couldn’t quite place — saying in unison, “ _What_ evidence?”

Marik swallowed, fiddling with his sleeve. “I-I’d rather discuss that with your colleague, Takeda, if he’s the one handling this investigation.”

Itonokogiri blinked. “I can always pass on whatever it is you want to say.”

Marik shook his head, trying to hide his panic. _Please. Please go and fetch him. I need time to think._ “Thank you, but if it’s not too much trouble, I’d prefer to tell Takeda himself.”

“But—“

To Marik’s surprise, Mitsurugi placed a hand on Itonokogiri’s shoulder. “No, Itonokogiri, I think we should go and get Takeda.”

Itonokogiri frowned. “You do?”

“I do. I can see what you’re doing, Marik Ishtar,” he said, looking at Marik, his expression a mixture of irritation and amusement, and other things. Fondness. Sadness. “I used to have to deal quite frequently with someone who contrived his successes from bluffing and stalling when he was out of evidence.”

Marik swallowed. “Is...that right?”

The prosecutor _almost_ smiled. “Indeed. However, that man usually ended up thinking of something in the end, so I suppose I’ll give you a chance to do the same.”

“I— Thank you.”

Mitsurugi nodded. “Think nothing of it. Come, Itonokogiri.”

Itonokogiri blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re going to buy this man some time and fetch Takeda from his office.”

“Oh, okay...”

Marik blinked, dumbfounded, as Mitsurugi led Itonokogiri away, towards the stairs, although there was an elevator on the opposite side of the room. _I suppose he’s giving me more time..._

Marik heaved a sigh of relief, only to hear a voice beside him: “Marik, you dumb fuck.”

Marik jumped, having almost forgotten Bakura was there. He glared at him. “Yeah, I know. _Gods_ , what do I say now?!”

“To me, nothing. You shouldn’t be able to see me, remember?”

“Right. Fuck.”

“Marik, _shut up._ ”

_Right. Fuck._

He sat down on the nearest bench, thinking. _Evidence…shit, what evidence do I have!?_

He couldn’t give Takeda any evidence that might actually _help_ get Yugi convicted for something which couldn’t have been his fault — even if Yugi choosing to finish the duel was a necessary part of Kioru’s death, he couldn’t have started the shadow game, therefore he wasn’t the main problem. While there was little doubt that Tadako died as a consequence of the duel, and that Yugi had been the one to end that duel, there was a missing link in Takeda’s theory: the link between Yugi finishing the duel, and Kioru’s death.

_So if he were to learn about the Items…_

Marik shuddered. That wouldn't end well for Yugi, and it almost certainly wouldn't end well for him either. Telling Takeda anything _remotely_ related to the Items was definitely out.

“Is there something you can tell him that he probably already knows, but you wouldn't necessarily know he knows it?” Bakura said suddenly. “I’m not sure what, but…”

_Great, so ‘Kura doesn't have any ideas either…_

Marik bit his tongue, staring at a leafy green pot plant across the room, as if it might give him an answer. And then it came to him.

He was a duelist — he’d duelled Yugi before. He might not have any useful _evidence_ per se, (at least, none that he could give to the police,) but he could be useful anyway. He could offer to point out anything odd about the duel, anything different to when he duelled Yugi himself. _I don't see how that could lead to conclusive evidence about Yugi’s “guilt”…and it could be a useful exercise for my investigation anyway._

He blinked. He hadn't thought of his own curiosity about Kioru as an “investigation” before. _Well, if the shoe fits…_

He glanced at Bakura, giving him a subtle thumbs up. The spirit nodded. “Good. Don’t screw up.”

Almost on cue, the elevator doors opened, and Itonokogiri emerged. “Alright pal, he's waiting for you on the fourth floor.”

Marik nodded, getting into the elevator himself, followed by Bakura. Bakura glanced at him. “So, what is this “evidence” you supposedly have?”

“It’s not evidence that I’ve come to see him about, strictly speaking. But I could help him analyse the duel, as someone who’s good at duel monsters, and has duelled Yugi before, which could theoretically give rise to some kind of evidence.

The spirit’s pride wouldn't allow him to look impressed, but he did look relieved.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a well-lit room, filled with people working in large cubicles. The sounds of tapping keys and shuffling papers blanketed the room in a kind of white noise, and the air smelled faintly of coffee and shoe polish. A woman working in the cubicle closest to the door turned around, gave him a once-over, and then called out, “Takeda, it's for you.”

On the other side of the room, a young man, probably only just in his twenties, peered over the top of his cubicle. He stood up, holding a binder folder in his arms, walking over. More slightly built than Marik would have expected for a police officer, he had inky black hair, and almost startling blue eyes, which were calculating, but not cold. What was even more noticeable, however, was the dark circles underneath them. “Marik Ishtar, was it?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I was hoping to talk to you about Yugi.”

“Sure. Would you mind if we talk in one of the interrogation rooms?” he said, a little apologetically, but firmly.

Marik stiffened. “Um—”

“Just so that I can record the conversation,” he added, adjusting his grip on the binder. “You never know if testimonies like this will useful down the track. Unless you have some kind of problem with this conversation being recorded?”

Marik swallowed. That last part sounded almost like a threat. “I— I guess that would be fine.”

“Good.”

Takeda led Marik down yet another corridor. Bakura stayed close to Marik as if he were his shadow — a tense, alert, and extremely uncomfortable shadow, his eyes darting around as though looking for an escape. He caught Marik's eye, grimacing. “Be careful.”

Marik gave him a small nod in acknowledgement, wondering just what he’d gotten himself into.

The room was colder than Marik had expected — he was suddenly glad he hadn't shed his jacket in the lobby. Takeda directed him towards the table in the centre. If he’d watched more detective movies, he’d have thought this room had come straight out of one of those.

Both of them sat down, while Bakura melted into the corner of the room, his arms drawn across his chest. Marik put his backpack on the floor beside him. Takeda looked across the table at Marik, a small quirk at the corner of his lip. “So, you’re a duelist?”

“Y-yeah, I am. How did you know?”

“When Detective Itonokogiri told me your name, I was curious,” the detective replied easily. “I did a quick Google search. Apparently you’re quite good.”

Marik swallowed awkwardly, briefly feeling as though that last bit shouldn’t be taken out of context. “I guess you could say that.”

“And you’re Yugi’s friend?”

Marik nodded mutely.

“Yet you’re not just here to assure me he’d never kill anyone in the hopes that I’ll let him go,” Takeda said, leaning forwards slightly. “Detective Itonokogiri said you had evidence for me.”

Marik paused, working out how he would put this. “I mean…evidence might not be quite the right word. I have an offer to make you.”

Takeda blinked. “What kind of offer?”

“Before I befriended Yugi, I was his rival. We were both finalists in the KaibaCorp Battle City tournament, two years ago. I know how Duel Monsters works, and I know enough about Yugi’s strategies that if there was anything odd about the duel where Kioru died, I could tell you.”

Takeda nodded, thinking this over, leaning back in his chair. “Interesting. Well, I appreciate the offer, but I think I’m going to have to decline.”

Marik’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected to be shut down so quickly. _After all that, he’s just going to ask me to leave?!_ “Wha— why?!”

“You said you were a friend of Mutou. That being the case, you don’t want him getting convicted. You’re coming here with an agenda: you want me to think he’s innocent, so that I let him go. Therefore, I couldn’t trust anything you say about the duel.”

Marik’s eyes widened, caught off guard. _Damn, he’s fast._ “I—”

“I won’t allow myself to be misled like that. So if that’s all you had to say—”

“Hold on a second!” Marik said quickly, cutting him off. He wasn’t ready to leave just yet. “I’m offering you information that you can’t get from anyone else. The only other person who knows as much about Yugi’s strategy as I do, aside from those in his close circle of friends, is Seto Kaiba, who no one’s able to talk to right now. When I duelled him, the stakes were high for me. I did my research, and then I watched him duel multiple times in the same tournament before he reached me. _And_ I’ve been watching his duels since then. ”

Takeda paused, his eyes bright and alert, considering this. “The stakes were high for you? What do you mean?”

 _Um. Shit._ “I— It’s a long story. A personal story. And I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

The detective’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“R-really, it goes back to way before that tournament, and it didn’t have anything to do with Yugi personally!” he stammered. Fuck. This was the _last_ thing he’d wanted to get into — he wasn’t sure where he’d even start, if he was going to talk to anyone about it, ever. It was the last thing he wanted to discuss, that he wanted to even _think_ about “I-I guess…” he swallowed, getting an idea. He couldn’t believe he was saying this, but if this didn’t make Takeda lose interest, he really _was_ fucked.

“I guess it could be summed up with… _‘Daddy Issues’_.”

Silence. Then, in the corner of the room, Bakura absolutely lost it, doubling over with laughter. Takeda blinked. “O-oh, sure. I guess that’s not relevant, then…”

_THANK THE FUCKING GODS._

“…but none of that changes the fact that you have an ulterior motive in coming here. Regardless of how much you know about Mutou as a duelist, you intend to tell me there was nothing odd about the duel, and therefore insinuate that Yugi didn't do anything.”

Marik bit back a hiss of annoyance as he tried to block out the sound of Bakura taking a deep breath, getting a hold of himself, before cracking up again. He swallowed, focusing on Takeda. “Wait a second — I would only try and ‘insinuate’ that Yugi was innocent if I thought that wasn’t the case.”

Takeda frowned. “Meaning?”

The duelist met Takeda’s eye mind racing. “I think Yugi’s innocent, so why would I lie? If I just told the truth, everything would become clear in the long run.”

“Is that right?” Takeda said, his eyes glinting. “You believe the truth will become evident eventually, and Yugi will end up being innocent?”

Marik frowned. “Well…yes?”

The detective smirked. “If that’s the case, I don’t think I want you to leave just yet.”

Marik hesitated, not sure whether he should feel relieved or concerned. “You don’t?”

“No. Marik Ishtar, if you thought this “truth” of yours would reveal itself, and Mutou would be proven innocent in the end, why would you come? If you _truly_ believed Mutou had done nothing wrong, you _wouldn’t_ have. You came because you’re worried about something.” Takeda stood up, and placed his hands on the table, leaning closer to Marik. “You might have asked to speak with me on the false pretence of giving me evidence, but that’s exactly what you’ve done. It wouldn’t satisfy a court, but you coming here is all the evidence I need. It proves that Mutou has something to hide.”

Marik felt panic beginning to set in — Takeda wasn’t wrong. He clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself not to react.   _Okay, so he’s fast. I can be faster._ “Does it?”

“Yes. You’re here to try and distract me — by looking at this duel, you’re making sure my attention is away from whatever it is you think might prove Mutou played a role in Tadako’s death after all.”

Marik narrowed his eyes — Takeda might have overestimated how far ahead he’d been thinking, but he was mostly right. Marik couldn't afford to let him think that for long. He stood up, mirroring Takeda, refusing to be stood over. He stored away the fact that Takeda had called Kioru ’Tadako’ for later. “You sound very certain.”

“Yes,” he said glaring.

Marik glared back. There was a fire burning in his gut now. If this Takeda thought he could outsmart him, he had another thing coming. It was clear to both of them that neither was planning on cooperating with the other. This was a different kind of duel — a battle of wits. The setting of an interrogation room was fitting. Except, unlike most interrogations, Marik was also planning on getting information out of Takeda. Before he left this room, he would work out exactly how much Takeda knew about Yugi, and the items. He glanced once at Bakura, who watched from the corner of the room, then ignored him. He couldn’t afford to be distracted if he was going to try and outwit this detective. It was all a matter of who slipped up first.

Marik smirked. If this was Takeda’s game, he was more than willing to play. “Well, you’re wrong.”

Takeda raised an eyebrow, seemingly unfazed. “Really. Care to explain?”

Marik narrowed his eyes, his voice cold. “Sure. Coming here wasn’t my idea. It was Yugi’s other friends who sent me. Guilty or not, they’re worried about him. Me being here has nothing to do with my belief that Yugi’s innocent.”

The detective smiled, taking a step back too, taking full advantage of the fact that he was slightly taller, staring Marik down. “For now. But there’s a glaring contradiction in that statement.”

“Which is?”

“If that were the case — if you were merely asked to suss out Mutou’s situation by your other friends — you could have left after talking to Mitsurugi. He told you how long Mutou could be detained for. But you wanted something with _me.”_

Marik gritted his teeth, thinking fast. “Yeah, because I wanted to know more than that. I’ve heard how ruthless police interrogations can be in Japan, and so have Yugi’s other friends. We were all anxious about how he was coping with the verbal abuse and manipulation. Maybe I wanted to talk to you in order to try and get some sense of how you’ve been treating him, or to find out whether he had a lawyer.” _Not really what_ I’m _here for, but anyway, it’s half a truth. Ryou was worried. He can’t fault that._

Takeda shook his head, beginning to pace, circling the table. “Except you didn’t ask me about that.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to tell me outright, so I wouldn’t ask outright,” Marik countered, turning to face him. “I was hoping I’d learn something by talking to you, discussing the duel.”

“Why the duel specifically?” Takeda pressed. “Why talk to me about that?”

“It’s the only excuse I had to meet with you. I don’t have any other evidence I could possibly present.” Then it came to him: a way to test the waters, in terms of how much Takeda knew about the Items. “After all, I was in Egypt on the night of the murder.”

Takeda’s eyes glowed. “Egypt?”

 _Fuck. He knows something_. Marik swallowed. “…Yes.”

“And _why_ were you in Egypt?”

Marik panicked for a moment, suddenly wondering whether Takeda could possibly connect the dots between him being in Egypt, and the robbery from the museum in Cairo. _No…no, that was a full week before Kioru’s murder, on the other side of the world. Unless he already knows a thing or two about the Items, there’s no way he would have paid any attention to that._ He bit his tongue, doing his very best to look unaffected, unimpressed. “Why was I in Egypt?”

“Yes.”

“Because I’m _Egyptian_ . I _live_ there. I have for most of my life.”

“…Oh.” Takeda paused, glancing at the door, thinking.

Marik smirked, finally feeling like his head was above water. “As for why I came out to Japan—”

“ _Wait!”_ Takeda said suddenly, slamming his hands on the table. “Do you realise what you said a second ago?!”

Marik froze, feeling himself sinking again. “Um—“

“You said, ‘I was in Egypt on the night of the _murder’_.”

_Oh, FUCK._

Marik swallowed. “So what if I think it was murder? You _also_ realise it can’t have been a coincidence. I just don’t think Yugi could be responsible.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust him.”  The words came out of his mouth before he’d even thought about them, but they were true. _That, and without the Puzzle, he_ couldn’t _have done anything…_

Takeda’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be so sure?”

Marik hesitated. The main reason was the fact that he’d the items, but he had to direct the conversation as far away from them as possible. Then he remembered: Takeda had been calling Kioru by his first name. He wasn't above a little emotional manipulation. _Gods, please let this pay off._

“…The same reason you called Kioru ‘ _Tadako_ ’ earlier.”

Suddenly, Takeda froze, his eyes widening. He opened his mouth, and then shut it again, his eyes pained, confused. “You don’t mean that.”

Marik frowned. “Why not?”

Takeda looked away, glaring at the floor, his voice thick with emotion. “Because you’ve been calling Mutou your friend all this time.”

Marik’s eyes widened. “Wait—“

 _“Moving on,_ ” Takeda said suddenly, too loudly, too harshly, leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. “…You said you were from Egypt.”

Marik frowned, still reeling from the strength of Takeda’s reaction, feeling a little guilty. _Looks like I hit a nerve…_ “Yeah?”

Takeda opened up his binder, pulling out a picture of Yugi. It looked like it was from before Marik knew him — he seemed younger, and his bangs weren't as sharp. Sure enough, though, the puzzle was hanging around his neck. Takeda placed his finger on it, looking at Marik. “Do you know what this is?”

Marik blinked. He couldn't afford to tell Takeda anything — not when he was so impossibly good at inductive reasoning. “No.”

“Can you tell me anything about it? Anything at all?”

 _No fucking way._ He frowned, feigning confusion. “Why, should I be supposed to?”

Takeda leaned in closer. “Just checking: you know _absolutely nothing_ about this object?”

Marik met his eye, glaring. “Nothing.”

Takeda grinned. “Liar.”

Marik bit his tongue. “But—”

“You said you duelled Yugi two years ago, during the Battle City tournament. Yugi had this then.”

 _Fuck_. “R-really? I didn't notice.”

Takeda looked unimpressed. “I don't know, it looks pretty noticeable to me.”

“Well, I mustn't be very observant then.”

Takeda’s eyes narrowed into slits. “That's not true. What’s more, you also said you’d lived in Egypt for most of your life. Yet you didn't recognise the Eye of Horus.”

Marik raised his eyebrow. There was no point going back now. “The what now?” (Bakura scoffed.)

“Horus. One of the _Egyptian Gods._ ”

Marik frowned, and then his eyes widened, as though he’d had some sudden epiphany. “ _Ohh,_ like the one on the Duel Monsters card! Ha, that’s funny, I actually run a Horus deck at the moment.”

Takeda frowned. “You… _what?_ ”

“My deck’s built around this card, _‘Horus the Black Flame Dragon’_. Huh. Who knew it was also based on an Egyptian God…”

Takeda stared at him, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “You can’t be serious.”

Marik grinned. “Prove it.”

Takeda glared at him — if an expression could say ‘fuck you’, he was screaming it. “You _are_ hiding something about that pendant, Marik Ishtar. And I will find out what it is.”

Marik met his gaze evenly. “Your theory is based on assumptions and coincidences, Detective Takeda. There’s nothing for you to find. “

Takeda swallowed, his eyes darting around the room, as though searching for something, _anything_ to latch on so that he could keep on going. His eyes fell on the backpack at Marik’s feet. “Well…would you mind showing me what's in that bag of yours?”

It was the bag holding the Millennium Items.

Marik froze, hearing Bakura suck in a breath behind him. _Oh, shit._ This was, by far, the worst thing that could have possibly happened. The game was up. If he refused to let Takeda look in the backpack, he’d only seem more suspicious, and, being on the police force, Takeda probably had permission to search it anyway. And if he opened it up…

Marik felt something heavy settle in his chest. He’d have to use the Rod. He nodded calmly. “Yeah, of course.”

Hands shaking, he knelt down, and unzipped his backpack, with his back to Takeda. The Rod was sitting on top.

He knew this was being recorded — he didn’t know if it was audio, or video, but either way, when Takeda watched it back, something would seem out of step. But this was his only option now. Deftly, swiftly, he pulled the Millennium Rod out of the backpack and rounded on Takeda, whose eyes widened. “Is that—”

**_Stop talking. Give in to me._ **

The Rod began to glow faintly, and Takeda’s eyes glazed over, his arms dropping to his sides. Marik felt a twinge of guilt, but he pushed it away. _I’ve got no other choice._

**_First: reveal to me everything you know about the Millennium Items._ **

Marik closed his eyes as Takeda’s knowledge washed over him, learning in an instant what the detective knew. He knew Yugi got the Puzzle immediately before a series of unexplainable incidents happened three years ago, but he didn't what the Puzzle was called. He knew what the Eye of Horus was, and therefore knew the items’ origin — Egypt. And he knew that Yugi was oddly defensive when asked about them.

_Good. He hasn't given up anything yet._

**_Second: reveal to me everything about Yugi’s arrest and interrogation._ **

More information — images, scenes — were copied from one mind to the other. Yugi was arrested at 9:30 this morning, and he didn't have a lawyer. He was doing fine at the moment, but psychological intimidation and sleep-deprivation were definitely on the agenda. No surprise there, but Marik had faith in Yugi. Anything Takeda intended to throw at him couldn't be worse than the shadow magic Yugi had endured before.

He turned his attention back to Takeda. There was no point in making him forget their entire conversation, since it was all recorded. But if he could cover up the fact that he had the items, that would be enough.

**_You will forget the last minute of our conversation completely. Instead, you will remember asking me what’s in my backpack, and you will remember opening it, and finding two bags of groceries. Out of leads, you remember letting me go. You won’t share the recording of this conversation with anyone, unwilling to reveal to your colleagues whatever your relationship with Kioru Tadako was. Two minutes after I leave, or when someone else enters this room, you will be free of my control._ **

With that, he lowered the Rod, and the glowing stopped. Bakura finally spoke: “Bloody hell.”

Marik nodded mutely, returning the Rod to his backpack. He didn’t remember feeling quite this drained after using the Rod two years ago — not physically drained, but emotionally. He glanced back at Takeda, feeling heavy. When he was helpless like this, it seemed unfair, selfish, to leave him in the dark. He’d known Tadako. He didn’t seem like he was a bad person. He just wanted to know the truth. In that way, maybe he wasn’t so different to Akira.

But the circumstances were all wrong. Whatever the truth was about Tadako, he couldn’t let Tadeka know about the items. That might lead to Yugi being accountable for Atem’s actions, Ryou being accountable for Bakura’s, and Marik being accountable for… _him_.

While he wasn’t sure if he and the other Marik were one and the same, accepting the consequences of that was a different thing entirely.

Pushing these thoughts away, he returned the Millennium Rod to his backpack, glanced around the room once, and then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adkfjhalks when I said I'd update monthly I didn't mean for it to be almost an exact month?? How did this work out so nicely??
> 
> but yeet, we interrupt this yugioh fanfiction to bring you "ace attorney cameos: extremely gratuitous edition"! I just got into this fandom, and kind of went to town making references, so if anything wasn't making sense, I'm so, so sorry. Mitsurugi and Itonokogiri are not my characters, they're the Japanese names for Miles Edgeworth and Detective Gumshoe, from the Pheonix Wright: Ace Attorney games, I love them both to bits and couldn't not do this ^^' But hey, now any Ace Attorney pals can work out what year it is in this fic! Since the year was never technically defined in yugioh canon (to my knowledge), this was always some kind of au where everything's the same except there are smartphones, at least in my head. It's kind of nice to put year on it (2021), even if it was just a consequence of my wanting to make a reference! At any rate, the year shouldn't have much bearing on the plot :)
> 
> (Seriously though, I promise, no more ace attorney for a while, I've satisfied my need to make references that literally no one asked for XD)
> 
> Also, I have to give credit to @catfishofoldin99colours for "the whispy bastard", it's brilliant and I wish I could claim that phrase as my own, thanks again, you're an amazing beta reader in general sdljdhflkj :D (Editorship ended with Grammarly, now Catfish is my Best Editor <3)
> 
> Thanks for reading! As always, comments and kudos are 200% loved and appreciated, hope y'all enjoyed~ <3


	8. Chapter Seven: Flash Assailant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tea is spilled.

That night, Marik hardly slept. 

He couldn't shake the feeling that talking to Takeda would end up being a mistake. Sure, he’d gotten the information that he wanted. But if Takeda had managed to get what he wanted out of Marik too, then it couldn’t have been worth it.

He stared at the ceiling, replaying what he could remember in his mind, over and over. Takeda would be able to listen to that conversation, and maybe even watch what happened, as many times as he liked. Sure, there would be a gap in Takeda’s memory, but before long, he’d realise that what he remembered couldn’t have really happened. He would remember inspecting Marik’s bag, but there would be a minute or so of complete silence on the recording — if he was as always as quick as he’d been with Marik earlier, he’d already know something was up.

_ As long as he doesn’t learn about the Items… _

He signed, trying to recall the conversation again, worried that he’d slipped up. Even if Takeda hadn't quite worked out what was up with the Items just yet, he was scarily,  _ scarily _ close.  _ And _ he had Yugi. It was as though Marik and Yugi were walking on a knife’s edge, except they couldn't see each other, and Takeda was lying in wait, ready to throw them both off balance. 

Marik rolled over, trying to push these thoughts out of his mind. Making overly dramatic metaphors out of the situation only made everything seem worse. Unable to sleep, he stared across the room, at the filing cabinets, counting the stripes of dim blue light coming in from outside. The office felt like a liminal space at night, as though reality was somehow out of step, in an eerie sort of way; but a good eerie. Empty, quiet, and dark, aside form the night-light, the room was oddly peaceful.

Bakura hadn't made any comment about the night-light since he’d arrived.

“Hey, ‘Kura?”

Bakura, who’d been sitting on the other side of the room, opened his eyes. He didn't seem to need sleep, in this form. (Then again, he hadn't maintained much of a sleep schedule with a body either.) “Don't call me that,” he said, eyes flashing dangerously.

Marik ignored the spirit’s reaction, propping himself up onto his elbow. “Do you think Yugi’ll say anything? To Takeda?”

Bakura paused, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Not intentionally. Takeda won’t be able to ‘break’ him, if that's what you mean. But given that he’s so perceptive, he might be able to glean something from whatever Yugi says. Or doesn’t say.”

“Yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gods, we’re so fucked.”

“You think so?”

Marik sat up, looking at him, surprised that there wasn’t even a hint of sarcasm in Bakura’s words. “Well,  _ yeah. _ Takeda’s smart. He’s  _ this close  _ to working out what the Items are, and he has Yugi.”

Bakura tipped his head to one side. “Maybe, but it’s simple, what he does. He makes assumptions based on the facts that he has, he tries to get into the heads of the people he’s assuming things about, and then tries to get them to say things which will prove him right. That’s how he worked out you were hiding something. But what he’s missing now is the Puzzle’s name. As long as he doesn’t know the “Millennium” part, he can’t research the Items further. And I don’t see how he could work that out without Yugi telling him outright.”

Marik bit his lip. “I guess not. But if we assume that he’ll work out that some kind of magic from Egypt lets me alter his memory…”

Bakura raised an eyebrow. “You think he’ll accept that magic exists that easily?”

Marik blinked. He forgot, sometimes, that magic wasn’t as normal to everyone else as it was to him. “Oh, right. I guess not?”

“Mm. It’s more likely he’ll conclude that there was something off about the recording. Or that he just remembered it wrong.”

Marik frowned, unconvinced. “Maybe he would usually…but not combined with Tadako’s death. I think he realises that there’s something bigger going on here.”

The spirit nodded, sitting back, staring at the clock on top of the bookshelf. It was one o’clock. “You called him Tadako again.”

“Hm?”

“Kioru.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. I think it’s because Akira called him that so much.”

He nodded. “Have you had any more visions, since the funeral?”

Marik shook his head. “No. To be honest, I’ve kind of been avoiding touching the necklace. I know the visions could be useful, but…” he trailed off, trying to find the right words. “I…I had a bad experience with the Necklace once. And besides, I’m not good at using it. Not like Ishizu.”

Bakura shot him a sceptical look. “Was she  _ really  _ that good at using it in the first place? Her vision about her duel with Kaiba was wrong.”

He shrugged. “Well, she’s better than me. She can call on specific moments in time, specific things which she wants to see, and she’s better at working out what it all means. Anyway, there’s already so much that doesn’t make any sense, and nothing the Necklace has shown me has ever been clear, or straightforward. I don’t think it would be helpful for me to try and use it again.”

Bakura frowned. “If it's alright for me to ask, what was this…’bad experience’? It wasn't recent, was it?”

Marik swallowed, going very still. Yes, he had used the Necklace before now, but he’d been trying not to think about it. Panic knotted in his stomach, rising in his throat. His voice shook. “N-no. Just after Battle City, I was holding it, and it…it took me by surprise.”

The spirit glanced at him, brow furrowed, sensing his distress. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“N-no, I just…” he trailed off, the corners of his vision darkening, head swimming.  _ No, nonononono, don’t go there, blockitoutblockitoutblockitoutblockitout, please— _

He couldn’t stop it. The vision came rushing back. Suddenly, he was in the tombs, but he wasn’t himself. He was The Other Him. Flames from torches danced at the edges of his vision. The Millennium Rod’s golden edges glinted in the darkness. Shadow magic, thick, crushing, made it difficult to breathe. But worst of all, was the rush of adrenaline he felt, both his and not his. The feeling of pure elation, the feeling of power, of  _ freedom, _ as he  _ laughed _ , chilling Marik to his very core—

_ “Marik!” _

Marik stiffened as Bakura’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was shaking violently, and the spirit was next to him, with one hand on his shoulder. The vision was gone. The tombs were gone. The Other Him was gone.

He felt his doona being draped over his shoulders, only just alert enough to realise that Bakura was making it float.  _ Guess being a ghost has its perks. _

Bakura sat down next to him, silently. Marik took a deep breath, still caught off guard by how everything still hurt. All his stress about Takeda wasn’t helping either. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologise. You don’t have to tell me what you saw.”

Marik wrapped the blanket around himself properly, staring at the wall. “I-it’s fine. It was a vision of the past. It was of when I killed my father, I think, but—” He broke off, taking a deep breath. “I— I can’t remember much of it. My mind blocks it out for me, most of the time. I’d almost forgotten about it, to be honest — the vision, that is...”

He trailed off, and there was silence. Then Bakura said, almost drily: “Ha. Then I guess I can remember enough of my trauma for both of us. I wouldn’t’ve been able to block any of it out, even if I wanted to.” He swallowed, staring at the floor. “I remember every detail.”

Marik nodded, grimacing. “What do you reckon’s worse? Remembering, or not knowing?”

“Oh, not knowing, for sure. That way it’s left up to your imagination, isn’t it?”

“Mm.”

Marik wasn’t entirely sure how long they sat there. 

Bakura turned up the nightlight. 

Marik tried not to let his imagination wander.

* * *

_ BZZZzzzzZZZZZZZZZZT _

He was jolted awake by the sound of his phone buzzing, grating against the wooden desk which it sat on, not for the first time that week. He groaned quietly as he realised he’d fallen asleep in an awkward position, and woken up feeling absolutely disgusting. His neck was sore, his head throbbed, everything seemed far too bright, and he felt queasy.  _ I guess that’s what I get for not sleeping properly… _

Bakura hadn’t moved. He frowned at the duelist. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, sitting up, reaching for the phone. Despite the fact that daylight was already coming in through the cracks in the blinds, the light from his phone was almost blinding. He felt like he might throw up just looking into the harsh light, nevermind reading the words on the screen, so he tossed his phone on his bed.  _ I’ll deal with that later… _

The spirit glanced at him, his eyes unsympathetic. “That’s probably important, you know.”

Marik grunted, feeling too gross to dignify that with a response. He couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment — Bakura had almost been kind to him hours ago. The duelist had never been able to get a good read on him, and the more time he spent with the spirit, the more Marik realised that Bakura was just  _ like  _ that. He was unpredictable, and the extent to which he was being an asshole didn’t seem to correlate with anything.

He stood up, opening the blinds, waiting for his grogginess to dissipate. He caught a glimpse of his reflection, pale against the blue sky outside — his hair stuck up in all the wrong places and  _ nope nope nope _ , fixing that  _ immediately. _ He threaded his fingers through it a few times, but it refused to lie flat, probably because it needed to be washed. He’d gotten himself a gym membership (not entirely legally, but then again, surely there was nothing in the law about  _ not  _ using the power of the primordial darkness to get out of paying a few thousand yen?) so that he could shower, but kept on forgetting to bring shampoo and conditioner. While KaibaCorp’s location was useful, Marik’s office wasn’t exactly designed to be lived in.

Giving up on making his hair sit the way it should, he swept it back into a bun and called it a day. At least he didn’t look like  _ him _ .

His phone buzzed a second, signalling that it had been two minutes since he got the text. He sighed, picking the phone up off the table.

**_Kioru Akira_ **

_ (8:13) Hey Marik! Sorry to bother you so early, but I’ve been trying to think about what I can do to help, and I’ve put some of Tadako’s stuff in a box for you to borrow, if you want? I don't know if it will help but I wasn't sure what else I could do. Let me know if you want to meet somewhere to get it from me! — Akira. _

A small, concerned smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he read the text.  _ Oh man, she’s done the thing where she phrased the text like a casual email. Did I make her nervous somehow? Or maybe she thinks I’m old… _

**(8:16) All g, what kind of stuff? :)**

_ (8:19) his deck/a folder of other cards, and anything I could find of his which might be a bit related to Egypt or magic :) _

_ (8:19) There wasn't very much of that though _

Marik’s smile softened. He wasn't sure what he could do with that, but it sounded like she was trying really hard. He didn't want her to think any work she’d done was useless.

**(8:20) that could be helpful :) Are you far from the commercial district?**

_ (8:21) I can meet you there!  _

Bakura glanced over Marik’s shoulder. “You’re going to humour her, then?”

“Hey, who knows, maybe what she has  _ could _ be helpful. If Tadako had any connection to the items—”

“Then Akira probably would have known something about them already.” Bakura smirked at him. “You’re just being soft.”

Marik saw his smirk, and raised him an eye roll. “Nothing wrong with that.”

An hour later, Marik waited outside the KaibaCorp building. He’d gotten a bit more used to the cold by now, and was trying to make the best of it — although his fingers were so freezing he both couldn't feel them  _ and  _ felt them ache slightly, and his nose refused to stop running, at least the crisp air was refreshing, and the freshly fallen snow was nice. He thrust his hands deeper into the pockets of his overcoat, exhaling slowly, watching his breath fog up the air in front of him.

“Marik!”

He looked up, seeing Akira push her way through the crowd of people on their way to the office. She looked awfully out of place among the smartly-dressed business-people around her, her short, dark hair windswept and dishevelled, a sloppy cardigan hanging from her shoulders. Holding a cardboard box close to her chest, she smiled at Marik once she realised he’d seen her, pushing herself up onto her toes, trying to see over the crowd, waving. “Marik!”

Marik grinned, waving back. Bakura materialised next to him, looking unimpressed, as usual.

When Akira reached him, they both hesitated, wondering whether they were close enough to greet each other with a hug — they’d skipped the traditional Japanese formalities and honorifics, but only because they’d met under pretty exceptional circumstances, and calling each other by their surnames would be odd now. Using each other's first names wasn't really an indication of being at the hugging stage, in their case. After a long, awkward pause, Akira rubbed the back of her neck, smiling sheepishly at him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Marik said, smiling. “No Momo today?”

Akira shook her head. “No, he’s had his walk.”

“Aww, that's too bad. Did you want some tea? I’m staying at KaibaCorp at the moment, so I’m sure we could raid a staff kitchen or something.”

She frowned. “You’re…staying at KaibaCorp?”

“Yeah, in an empty office. I wouldn't recommend it.”

Akira nodded, blinking slowly. It certainly wasn’t the strangest thing Marik had told her in the past few days — it didn't even come close. “Alright then. Tea sounds great.”

They went inside, both of them pausing just inside the door to appreciate the warmth. Bakura tapped Marik on the shoulder. “I’ll wait upstairs,” he murmured. “Watching you two make small talk couldn't be less interesting.”

Marik acknowledged him with a subtle nod, and the spirit vanished.

They made their way up to the staff room, and Marik brewed the kettle. Akira leaned against the island bench in the centre of the room, gazing out the window. “By the way…”

“Hm?”

She glanced at him. “I don't think I ever thanked you properly.”

The duelist frowned, reaching into the cupboard for some teabags. “What for?”

“Well, everything, I guess. Looking into what happened to Tadako, telling me about the Millennium Items…” she trailed off, smiling at him. “I really appreciate it.”

Marik blinked. “No worries.”  _ I couldn’t exactly back out, anyway, not after that vision… _

He swallowed, feeling anxiety swell in his chest as he remembered his memory of that other vision last night.  _ No, not today, not now— _

“Is it common? For people to die because of the Millennium Items?” Akira asked, staring out the window again, her voice shaking slightly as she tried to keep her tone light.

Marik swallowed — not quite the distraction and distance he needed from those thoughts, but it would have to do. “That depends. It's not like a large number of people die because of them, but out of the people who  _ do _ know about them, it's probably a pretty high percentage—”

He broke off as the kettle beeped — Akira didn't look at him. “You mean it's more usual for people who know about the Items to die because of them, rather than people who don't?”

Marik stilled, realising why she was asking — she must have been thinking about Tadako. “Yeah, I’d say so,” he said carefully, pouring out the boiling water. “And it was probably more common a few thousand years ago, too.”

She nodded. “Then Tadako’s death was pretty unusual, even beyond the Millennium Items being involved…”

“Yeah. That’s part of why I decided to investigate it,” he said, handing her her mug. “It was odd. I was curious.”

Akira paused. “What was the rest of the reason?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, why else are you trying to work out why my brother died?”

Marik paused, thinking about it. Honestly, it had been a snap decision, based largely in instinct — he’d been in Egypt, without much of a purpose, and it wouldn't have been right if no one ever knew the truth.

After all, he hadn't known the truth about a very significant murder in his life for a very long time.

He pulled his teabag around the edge of his mug in a slow circle. “I…I don't know. I wasn't sure anyone else could do it, and it felt like the right thing to do.”

Akira smiled. “So that's it, then? You just wanted to do the right thing?”

There was a beat — Marik's eyes widened, his breath hitching. Something in his chest suddenly felt tighter, warmer, right at his centre, almost like a stab, but also absolutely nothing like a stab because he knew what a stab felt like. Was that true? Was  _ that  _ what was motivating him, deep down? Was he  _ really  _ trying to do the right thing?

He swallowed, thinking the idea through. On the face of it, it seemed true enough. He definitely didn’t have anything else motivating him — he wouldn’t gain anything particular once he learned the truth. But after so many years of chasing significantly less honourable ideals and outcomes, acting on instinct, on blind ambition, and a need for vengeance…had his instincts  _ changed?  _ He certainly hadn’t thought this through any more than his decision to get his vengeance on the Pharaoh, and yet this decision had such a different character.

Everything that he’d said at the end of Battle City about renouncing darkness, and continuing on a path of light…was he actually doing it?

Marik didn’t realise he’d waited too long to respond until Akira started talking again, slightly too quickly, sounding embarrassed. “Sorry, that was probably a really weird thing to say, I just— I just wasn’t sure if you had some other ulterior motive. But if you’re just doing it because it feels like the right thing to do, then—” she broke off, swallowing, tucking her hair behind one ear. “Then that’s great. That’s really great.”

Marik blinked, only half listening. “O-oh. Great.”

Akira looked away, ducking her head awkwardly, removing her teabag from her mug, placing it carefully on the edge of the sink. She took a long sip, letting out a sigh, closing her eyes. “God, I needed that. Thank you.”

Marik took a deep breath, making a conscious effort to pull himself out of his thoughts. He could work through his identity crisis another time — right now, he had to try and hold a conversation. He swallowed. “Did you have any other questions?”

She smiled wryly into her mug. “About the Millennium Items, you mean?”

He nodded. “Mm.”

“Yeah, one: who the  _ fuck _ used them to kill my brother?”

Marik grimaced, dropping his gaze.  _ Yeah, okay, I walked right into that. _

Akira swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to lash out—”

“No, don’t apologise,” Marik said quickly. He managed a hint of a smile. “I’m working on it. Besides, you have a right to be angry.”

“Mm. Thanks, I don't know if I’m angry, I just…” She trailed off, staring into her tea. “I don't know. I don't know what to think.”

Marik was unable to do anything but nod mutely. He didn't have the best track record when it came to dealing with losing family members.

“…But, if I can help you,” she said slowly, “I think I’d feel better. It's still hard, accepting that he’s really gone. And it sounds really contradictory, but even though all of this is about him being gone, it's almost distracting. Trying to find the truth almost makes it feel like a problem that can be solved, even if knowing won't bring him back.”

Marik swallowed. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, I’m glad you think so.”

Silence fell between them — Akira made herself look busy by sipping her tea, while Marik stared into space, thinking. “How old are you again?”

“I’m fifteen.”

Marik blinked. “That’s…the same as Ishizu.”

Akira frowned at him. “Who?”

“She’s my sister.” He swallowed. “She was fifteen when we lost our father.”

Akira’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit, sorry.”

Marik very quickly bit back a  _ ‘don’t be’,  _ shaking his head, ignoring the voices screaming at him to not talk about this. He trusted that Akira wasn't the type to pry into this kind of thing. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

_ Her reaction was the complete opposite of yours,  _ he added silently, sipping his tea.  _ She wanted to keep the truth hidden. _

“Is she your older or younger sister?” Akira asked.

“She’s four years older.”

Akira smiled sadly. “So was Tadako.”

The duelist smiled grimly, not quite sure how to respond. 

Akira set her mug down on the table, shifting her weight awkwardly, before cheering up slightly. “Oh! I still haven't shown you what I brought with me!”

Marik nodded, smiling. “Should we do that in my room?”

“Is it okay if we take the tea with us?”

Marik assured her that it was fine, so they took their tea, and slipped down the corridor to Marik’s office.

Marik opened the door, almost forgetting that Bakura would be there too. Leaning against the filing cabinets, he knowledge Marik with a nod, and then, hesitantly, glanced at Akira, awkwardly raising one hand as a kind of wave. She didn't see him at all.

The spirit and the duelist exchanged a glance — that confirmed that, then. Whatever the vision was about, Akira couldn't see Bakura. Which, Marik supposed, was a good thing. At the very least, it was normal, and predictable, and a fantastic change from literally  _ everything else _ that had happened recently.

Akira had wandered around the other side of the wooden desk in the centre of the room, looking around the room. “So, you’re living here at the moment?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how much longer it’ll be, but it’s comfortable enough.”  _ More comfortable than the tombs, anyway. _

Akira nodded, placing her tea on the table, followed by the cardboard box. “Did you want me to go through what’s in here?”

He blinked. “Yeah, sure, as long as you’re up to—”

He broke off, suddenly becoming tense. He had no idea why, but he suddenly had a bad feeling. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, adrenaline racing through his veins.  _ Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong— _

“Marik?”

He said nothing, glancing at Bakura, who frowned at him, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

_ Great. Bakura doesn't feel it. Great great great great great. _

He scanned the room, searching for anything that was out of place.  _ Nothing’s missing, and this doesn't feel like shadow magic— _

Then he felt a kind of tug, as though his attention was being drawn towards the left side of the room. His eyes fell on the Puzzle, sitting beside his backpack, the eye on the front glowing ever so slightly. He picked it up, but the sense of foreboding didn't lessen. Then, somehow, he understood.

_ This is a warning. The Puzzle’s trying to warn me about something— _

Then a dark shadow appeared outside the window, quickly growing larger. He tensed, preparing to dodge it. “Akira, get down!”

The young girl’s eyes widened, and she instantly obeyed, slipping under the table. As she did, a third person burst through the window feet-first, shattering the glass. Marik leapt back, almost knocking over the shelves by the door in the process, gritting his teeth as hot tea splashed onto his shoulder. He placed the Puzzle on the floor and grabbed the Rod.  

_ Thanks, Puzzle. Didn't know you could do that. _

The intruder landed on the table, their face obscured— they wore a large hoodie, and had a murky brown scarf wrapped around their mouth and nose. The only features Marik could make out were dark, olive skin and thick, almost fluffy ginger hair, which stuck out from under the hood, and was swept to one side. They glared at Marik, with slanted, dark brown eyes. “ _ You.” _

Marik stilled, swallowing. He had no idea who this person was, or why they were here, but if they came in through the window and hid their face, he figured they weren't good news. “Yes?”

The intruder glared at him for a few moments more, and then glanced around the room. “You…you have  _ all  _ of them…” Her voice had a rough edge to it, and was somewhat muffled by her scarf, but was distinctly feminine.

Marik’s grip on the Rod tightened. “All of what?”

“The Items. You  _ murderer _ .”

Marik started, feeling something tighten in his chest, his mouth going dry. He was vaguely aware of the sound of his mug shattering as he dropped it, tea spilling onto the floor.

A thousand questions ran through his mind, while a thousand denials died on his lips. 

The intruder stared at him. “Well? Do you deny it?”

_ Murderer. _

She wasn't wrong. As much as he hated it, she wasn't wrong. 

He was a murderer. 

He clenched his jaw as shame, guilt, pain, all of it, coursed through him, settling in his veins like ice. He’d been a murderer since he was  _ eleven _ . He knew that there was an argument to be made that he wasn't responsible for either his father's death, nor his other self’s fate, but he wouldn't hear it. Whatever his other self did, he should be responsible for it. It was his fault the other Marik existed at all. It was his fault for  _ allowing  _ his other self to take over, for lacking the strength to stop him, for not being able to manage his own pain and anger. He should have been able to stop it. He should have been able to stop  _ him  _ — to stop himself.

Regarding everything the other Marik did, he was absolutely, unequivocally guilty.

His hands shook. His throat tightened. He could almost feel his father’s eyes on him, daring him to lie, daring him to hide who he was. What he’d done. Underneath the table, Akira stared at him, her eyes round. Marik swallowed, meeting the intruder’s eyes, his voice trembling.

“No.”

The intruder narrowed her eyes, and before even a second passed, she drew a knife, and leapt at him with a shout. Marik reacted instantly, dodging, adrenaline surging through his veins. His fighting ability wasn't unparalleled by any means, but he'd spent enough time with shady figures while running the Rare Hunters to be able to hold his own, with the help of a bit of magic. He unsheathed the Rod, casting the short blade’s case aside. The intruder attacked again — Marik deflected the attack with his own blade, and then rushed forwards in an attempt to knock her off balance. She stepped to the side, driving the knife towards his shoulder. He ducked, and grabbed her wrist, pushing her back against the wall. He held the Rod up near her throat, breathing heavily. 

“Who are you. And what do you want.”

The girl gritted her teeth, twisting her hand away with almost practised ease. “You  _ disgust  _ me. I don't owe you any explanations!”

She shoved him, and he stumbled, his thighs hitting the edge of the table. Her blade flashed as it rushed towards him, and he spun the Rod in his hands, catching the knife between the round ball and one of its wings. He didn't know what the fuck was going on here, but he was sure as hell going to find out. He tapped into the Rod’s magic, bringing the intruder under his control.  **_I’ll ask you again. Who are you, and what do you want?_ **

Her glare intensified, a far too familiar golden eye appearing on her forehead.

_ What?! _

She pulled back, and then lunged again, her dark eyes smouldering with rage. “You killed Tadako, you  _ bastard!” _

“I… _ what?!” _

He ducked, his mind racing. Okay, so maybe he killed his father, and even tried to kill Yugi, and Jonouchi, and plenty of others that he didn't want to think about, but he did  _ not  _ kill Tadako, and he wasn't going to get himself injured, or killed, or, Gods forbid, let anything happen to Akira, all because his assailant thought he’d done something which he didn't do. 

“I didn't kill Tadako!” he insisted, blocking the blow with another wave of the Rod, gritting his teeth. “If you’d just stop—”

“Liar! You had all the items — it must have been you!”

“Well, it  _ wasn’t!” _

_ “Was!” _

_ “Was — not!”  _ Marik grunted, catching her blade with the wings of the Rod again, and twisting it out of her hand. It clattered to the floor, sliding under the table, towards Akira. He spun the Rod once more, and held the blade to her throat a second time. 

“Now  _ talk _ .”

The intruder was silent, glancing around the room once more. Her gaze fell on Bakura, and lingered there. Then she looked back at Marik, her eyes alight with something like humour. 

“Make me.”

Marik’s eyes widened — she was  _ taunting  _ him. She  _ knew  _ that he couldn’t — that the Rod hadn’t affected her, and she was  _ mocking  _ him for it with a  _ knife  _ to her throat. 

Either he was sorely underestimating her, or she had serious guts. Probably both.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she raised one hand, cutting across him. “I know you don't plan on killing me,” she said calmly, gently lowering Marik’s blade, something in her eyes conflicted. “That much is obvious from the way you fight. Besides, you want to know who I am.”

_ Fuck, she's smart too.  _ He narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps.”

The intruder nodded, her eyes darkening. After a long beat, she said, “You really didn't kill Tadako?”

Marik nodded.

“Well. This is awkward,” she said, folding her arms in front of her. “Who  _ are  _ you then? And why did you have—” she broke off, her eyes going wide. She was still for a few moments. She blinked at Marik. “Huh. Nevermind.”

_ What? What the fuck? _

Carefully, slowly, she put the knife away, before rounding on Bakura. “And you. Who the fuck are you?”

“Me?” Akira said, still under the table.

“No. Him.”

The spirit stood stock still, his eyes round. She shouldn’t be able to see him. Bakura looked at Marik, then at the intruder, then at Marik again, confused, and concerned. Marik shrugged, mirroring his expression, internally screaming.

Bakura stared at the intruder for a few more beats, before finally speaking: “Huh?”

Marik took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.  _ Nice one, Bakura. Real smooth. Real intimidating. _

The intruder stared at them for a few moments more, before allowing her posture to relax, slipping back towards the window like a shadow. “Well then. I’m gonna bounce.”

Marik’s head snapped towards her. “Wait, I—”

She silenced him with a glare. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon, Marik Ishtar.”

With that, she stepped towards the window, reaching for a sturdy-looking rope hanging down from above. She gave it a sharp tug, and hoisted herself over the windowsill, swinging out of Marik’s sight. Akira emerged from under the table and raced to the window, leaning out — soon enough, they heard a clang. “The fire escape,” Akira breathed, her eyes round. “She got up the side of the building on the fire escape…”

Marik nodded, still too confused and shaken to be even remotely relieved. He stared out the window, processing what had just happened. Who  _ was  _ that? He'd never heard of anyone with the stranger’s description, yet she knew all about the items, and his mind control didn't work on her.

_ Could she have killed Tadako? _

No, surely not — she’d accused  _ him _ of killing Tadako.  _ But maybe if she knows something— _

“Marik?”

“Hm?” He glanced at Akira, expecting her to look just as baffled as he felt. But instead, the look in her eyes was dark, and intense.  

“Why didn't you deny it when she accused you of murder?”

_ Oh, fuck. That. _

Marik’s throat went dry as he wilted under Akira’s wounded, betrayed glare. “I—”

“Y-you were telling the truth. You’ve taken someone else’s life,” she said slowly, running one hand through her hair. “And I  _ trusted  _ you—”

Marik’s grimaced, taking a step towards her. “Akira, let me—”

“Get away from me!” Her voice was halfway between a snap and a yell, her eyes wide, looking around the room. Her eyes fell on the Puzzle, and she snatched it up, holding it by its rope, hanging between her and Marik. “Or else I’ll—”

“Akira, please,  _ listen—” _

_ “Stop it!  _ You—” she broke off, taking a long, rattling breath. Marik realised she was on the verge of tears. “You’ve—” she could hardly choke out the word, trailing off, covering her mouth with her free hand, her eyes round as she stared at him disbelievingly. “You’ve  _ killed  _ someone.”

He nodded mutely, unable to speak.

“Was it an accident?” She said suddenly, almost hopefully. “Is it just…was it an accident you blame yourself for?”

Marik bit his tongue, shaking his head.

“O-okay, that's fine. Was it…was it self-defence? It was self-defence, wasn't it?” she said shakily, her words coming faster now, desperate, pleading. “Because then—”

“Akira, it wasn't self-defence,” he said, his voice breaking. He hated this. He absolutely hated this. But he wasn't going to lie to her. “It wasn't an accident. It was murder.”

The word ‘murder’ seemed to cut through the space between them, severing the beginnings of any friendship that had started to form. The room suddenly felt colder.

When Akira spoke again, her voice seemed sharper. “Who?  _ When?!  _ God, how— how  _ many _ —” she broke off, her eyes round, slightly glazed over. “Was there more than one?”

Marik bit his lip.  _ My father. And the other me.  _ “T-two.”

Her eyes widened. “At the same time?”

“N-no.”

“When?”

He swallowed thickly. “Once, seven years ago. And the second time, two years ago.”

Akira blinked, her eyebrows furrowing further. Then her gaze snapped back to the duelist, her eyes uncertain. “Two years ago?”

He nodded.

“During the Battle City tournament?”

Marik frowned, wondering what the significance of that was. “Y-yeah—”

_ Oh wait, shit. _

He suddenly recalled their conversation from a two days ago.

_ “No one actually died in Battle City, did they?” _

_ “…No, but there were a few close calls.” _

She continued to stare at him, her eyes dark, first with pain, and then, slowly, anger. “You’ve been hiding it from me. This  _ whole time,  _ you’ve been  _ hiding  _ this from me.”

He swallowed. “I—”

“And I thought you wanted to help. I thought you were my  _ friend!”  _ Her voice cracked, raw with betrayal. “You were going to find the truth, and fix everything, but this  _ whole time _ , you've been hiding the fact that you're a  _ murderer _ —”

“Akira—”

“I guess you don't give a shit about Tadako’s death then, huh?! That shit’s just  _ normal  _ to you, just like shadow magic?!”

“Akira, no—”

“Is that how you did it?! Did they die the same way that Tadako did?!”

“Akira, slow down,  _ please _ ,” he pleaded, reaching for the Rod.  _ If I could just use it to calm her down slightly— _

“ _ No!  _ Don't you  _ dare _ try and make me forget this!” she said angrily. “Is that what you were getting the Rod out for?!”

“Akira,  _ no _ , I just need a chance to  _ explain—” _

“Why would I let you do that?!” she spat. “You might not have killed Tadako, but if you’ve killed someone else, why shouldn't you be just as bad?!”

“Akira, it’s complicated—”

“Is it really?! What's complicated about it — are they not really dead, or was it not really you?!”

Marik swallowed. He couldn't deny that his darker half was also him — they weren't separate in the way Yugi and Atem had been. “N-no, Akira—”

“ _ Stop!  _ Just, stop it!” she said, backing away further, towards the door, eyes shining with the beginnings of tears. “I wish I  _ hadn’t  _ saved your life on the day of the funeral!”

Marik’s eyes widened. “Akira—”

“I wish I hadn’t given you permission to call me that! I wish I hadn’t  _ thanked _ you for looking into Tadako’s death! I wish…” she broke off, gasping thickly — the Puzzle, still hanging between them, swayed back and forth. “I wish I hadn’t trusted a  _ murderer!” _

Marik stared at her, his eyes round, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.  _ No. No, no, no… _

Then Akira looked at the Puzzle, hanging between them, and then looked at him, her eyes still brimming with emotion, but filled with determination. “I’m finding the truth myself.”

Marik’s eyes widened. “Akira—”

_ “ _ I-I can't trust you. I  _ clearly  _ can't trust you,” she said, almost laughing, in a dead, broken way. “So I’m taking this, and trying to find out what happened to my brother myself.”

“But you don't know how to use the Puzzle!” Marik protested, his instinct to stop her from taking the Item overriding his shock and guilt and hurt. “Akira, that thing’s  _ dangerous—” _

“I  _ fucking know that,  _ Marik,” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “You think I didn’t get the memo after my  _ own brother’s death?” _

“No, that's not what I—”

“Leave me  _ alone,  _ Marik. I need— I need time to  _ think.” _

There was a long pause — Marik swallowed the panic rising in his throat. “Okay. Okay, that's fair, you need time to think, just— just give me the Puzzle. Then you can go, scream at me, do anything you like—”

Akira silenced him with a cold glare. “I don't need  _ your _ permission to do  _ any _ of those.”

Then, Puzzle in hand, she slammed the door without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so monthly updates went off the rails pretty quick but I'm back!! I was going to stick to my schedule but then I decided to reorganise the next four or five chapters and had to work through that/became incredibly busy playing in the band for my uni's law revue (which was amazing fun, but y'know, I missed writing :'))
> 
> Things are also going pretty off the rails for Marik lmao, this chapter was FUN to write though, once I got into it -- I'd love to hear what you thought!!
> 
> A million thanks to @catfishofoldin99colours once again for being an amazing beta/editor <3
> 
> Alsoooo I've been putting some art on my tumblr, [brightbriar-writes](https://brightbriar-writes.tumblr.com/tagged/not-guilty), including a sketch of our mysterious intruder, if you wanted to see :) (hyperlink is just to stuff tagged with not guilty bc who knows what other junk is on there lol)


	9. Chapter Eight: Shifting Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik goes to a café with a lot of unanswered questions and ends up with even more questions.

Marik wasn't sure how long he stared at the door. 

He wasn't sure whether he should be panicking, or confused, or hurting, or any combination of the three. He’d just been accused of murder, the Puzzle was gone, and Akira hated him; perhaps justifiably so.

The calm, rational part of his mind was telling him to focus on getting the puzzle back, or working out who the intruder from earlier was. It was the part of him that reminded him of Ishizu — the voice of reason, gently telling him how he should move forward.

But the rest of him was too shaken to listen. He felt fragile, on the point of breaking, something knotting in his chest, his heart racing, unable to do anything aside from continuing to stare at the door.

Bakura broke the silence: “Well, that’s just _bollocks_.”

Marik pulled his eyes away from the door, finding the strength to glare at him instead. He’d rather take out his feelings out on Bakura than start crying, the latter of which he was closer to than he’d like to admit. “ _Jeez_ , Bakura, what the _fuck_ tipped you off?”

The spirit looked so unimpressed it was vaguely intimidating. “Marik, you need to get the Puzzle back. We can deal with everything else later.”

Marik took a deep breath, pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few paces back, resting against the table. “Bakura, just— just shut up.”

Bakura blinked, taken aback. “Marik—" 

“I know, Bakura. I just— I can’t do this right now. I can’t.”

There was a heavy silence. Bakura looked offended, crossing his arms, but said nothing. Marik sat down, taking a deep breath, cupping his face his hands. _Fuck. How the fuck did everything get worse._  

“You can talk to me if you want,” Bakura finally said, albeit a little crabbily. “If you wanted to get some feelings out.”

Marik smiled wryly to himself. “No thanks. I’ve just been accused of murder by two different people, so I’m not sure I want to vent to someone who’d think that’s some kind of achievement.”

Bakura made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Touché. But hey, Marik? If you’re not going to go after Akira, at least go for a walk.”

The blonde glanced over at him, frowning. “A walk?”

“Yeah. Something to get rid of all this nervous energy,” he said, gesturing towards him with a wave of his hand. “Besides, the fresh air ought to be good for you. It’s better than holing yourself up here.”

“You think?”

Bakura nodded. “Trust me, Marik.”

Marik finally met his eye, just managing a smirk. “Never. But I will find a coffee shop or something.”

The spirit looked encouraged enough by that. “Good. If you don’t mind, I’m going to try and think of some kind of plan. A whole lot’s just happened, so we should try and think through our next move." 

Marik swallowed, feeling slightly guilty that he wasn’t in much of a state to help at the moment, because guilt was _exactly_ the thing he needed mixed in with all of these other feelings. “Y-yeah, that would be really good, actually. Thank you.”

Bakura looked away, tensing up, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond, like he'd never been shown gratitude before. Maybe he hadn't. “Yes, well, it’s better than just sitting here. And I don’t plan on leaving, so feel free to leave the Items behind.”

The duelist nodded. “Then I’ll just take the Rod.”

He stood up, sliding the Rod through one of the belt loops on his jeans, then left with one last farewell to Bakura. As soon as he shut the door, he closed his eyes, breathing slowly. In, out.

 _Gods, I need a drink._  

He laughed hollowly at himself. Alcohol might calm him a little, but knew not to act on that instinct. A few years trespassing in the minds of criminals had given him glimpses of how things ended if one started a habit like that. No, he would _not_ go and do that, that was _not_ self-care. 

The coffee shop where he’d met up with Ryou and Yugi before was the closest one that he knew of, but it felt strange going back there knowing that Yugi was under arrest at the police bureau, so he chose a different direction, and let himself get lost in his thoughts.

What had shaken him more than anything was Akira’s reaction. She’d seemed _wounded_ by the revelation that he’d taken someone’s life, and that he’d hidden it. In an instant, her impression of him went from someone who might have been her friend, to a killer. As though she’d just discovered Marik’s true self.

And Marik couldn’t help but feel that that wasn’t entirely wrong.

He swallowed, feeling a lump beginning to form in his throat. He’d tried so hard to distance himself from who he’d been before, but that just wasn’t possible. He would _always_ be that person. The person who killed his father, who used his brother, who started an international crime syndicate, who swore vengeance on the Pharaoh and everyone who held him dear. He couldn’t run from it, and apparently, he couldn’t hide it either.

Akira didn't even know half of what he'd done. And he wouldn't ask her to forgive him for any of it.

Then again, even if he’d done plenty of shit things Akira didn’t know about, he did wonder whether things would be this bad if she knew the circumstances around those two murders. He’d said flat out that it was murder by way of being honest, but while that was true, there was a lot of nuance that he hadn’t been able to explain.

He knew that technically, he hadn’t really been himself when he’d killed his father. One could argue that the person who killed his father was a different entity to him entirely, and therefore Marik was innocent; but even if that was the case, Marik felt responsible for the other him. It was his fault there was another Marik, because he didn’t know how to handle his trauma. It was his fault that he’d let him become that powerful. He should have been able to control him — even when he was finally defeated, it wasn’t because of any strength that Marik possessed, it was thanks to the Pharaoh, and the mechanics of a fucking _trading card game_. Even if he hadn’t been fully in control of his own mind, the blood was literally on his hands, and he was responsible for the other Marik’s existence. Any attempt to excuse him from that guilt was unacceptable to him.

And as for getting rid of the other Marik, even if he’d had help, that was entirely on him, but _holy fuck_ was it for the better. He had absolutely no misgivings about that one.

He sighed. _Maybe if I’d been able to explain…_

He was pulled from his thoughts as he noticed a chalk sign on the sidewalk. He frowned, taking a few moments to read it — he was good with spoken Japanese, but reading could be somewhat slower, beyond the typical words found on duel monsters cards.

_'We are selling hot milk tea inside…’_

Marik looked to his left, seeing an ‘open’ sign on the door of the café. Hardly thinking about it, he pushed the door open.

It was warmer inside, and it smelled faintly of tea, and baking. It felt oddly comforting. 

The barista gave him a smile and a nod as he came in, his hair pulled back into a bun. “Hey, can I help you at all?”

Marik didn't even consider the rest of the menu. “A hot milk tea with pearls, thanks.”

The barista nodded, they exchanged a bit of small talk about the cold outside, and Marik took a seat near the window. He stared into space, still processing what had just happened.

_So the Puzzle’s gone and Akira hates me. I just had a knife fight with a girl who wasn't affected by the Rod, and who seemed to know Tadako. Yugi’s still being interrogated by Takeda. There's still no good reason why Bakura should be here._

He felt like the dog sitting in a room on fire. _This is fine._

There was a blast of cold air as the door was opened again, and Marik suddenly wondered whether he should have sat further inside. He glanced briefly at the person who came in — a tall young woman, with long, dusky black hair, and tanned skin. 

She seemed awfully familiar.

She glanced at him, and he quickly averted his gaze, staring at his tea. _Gods, where do I know her from? She’s from Egypt, surely?_

But he was sure he’d seen her _recently_. He subtly placed one hand on the Rod, trying to get into her head, just a little bit, to work out who she was.

Nothing happened.

_Oh Gods, please not this again._

He desperately tried again, closing his eyes, focusing entirely on the Rod. There was no resistance when he tried it on anyone else in the room. But he couldn't get to her. 

He took a deep breath, trying to fight down panic. Okay, so the Rod didn't affect the stranger from before, and now this woman.

_This is fine. This is fine._

He wondered whether he should approach her. After all, that's what any normal person without a Millennium Item would do. But given that she was unaffected by the Rod, that might not be wise.

He looked over at her again, desperately trying to remember where he’d seen her before as she ordered a coffee. She glanced over her shoulder, looking straight at him, with dark, discerning eyes.

 _The plane_.

She’d sat next to him on the plane. They’d talked about something — the investigation, maybe, before he’d really known what he was getting into. Honestly, he still wasn’t sure he really knew, but anyway.

 _Oh fuck what was her name—_  

“Ishtar!” She grinned at him, a hint of smugness in her eyes, her voice rough, but warm. 

Marik frowned, swallowing. _Right, she called me that_.

The woman exchanged a few more brief words with the barista, before crossing the room and pulling up a chair next to him. Marik leaned away from her warily, one hand still on the Rod, glancing around. There were other people in the café — a group of highschoolers, a trio of old ladies, and a young woman on her phone. He didn’t want to make a scene if there wasn’t any danger, but if he did need to use magic to defend himself, well, that was what brainwashing was for. 

“Hey, what’re you looking so jumpy for?” she said, smirking.

Marik glanced at her, trying to shove back his fear. “I’m not jumpy.”

 “You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

He swallowed, not breaking her gaze. That was a possibility. “Now that you mention it, that’s what I’m wondering.” 

The woman blinked, frowning, leaning back in her seat. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Marik paused. She seemed genuine. _So she’s probably not some kind of ghost, then._ “Who are you, exactly?”

She smiled. “I said you could call me Astarte.”

Marik nodded — that was familiar, as was the cryptic wording.

They fell silent as the barista came over with his bubble tea and her coffee. Astarte gave him a warm smile, and a generous tip, which she seemed to produce out of nowhere. Wordlessly, she took a swig of her coffee as though it were beer or ale, unfazed by its temperature. “So,” she said, placing her mug back on the table. “I can see you’re more suspicious of me than last time we met.”

Marik swallowed, hesitating, then reaching for his tea. “I’ve had a weird day.” 

“Mm. And you’ve realised that Rod of yours doesn't affect me too, haven't you?”

He nodded.

Astarte narrowed her eyes, her face suddenly becoming serious, any hint of playfulness gone. “Alright. What happened with the Items this morning?”

Marik felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. _Alright, she knows things, she’s serious, and I’m at a disadvantage._

_This is fine._

Still, he pushed down his panic. Astarte might be a threat, but she seemed like she knew more than he did, and he needed some kind of lead about literally anything. At the very least, he had no idea what she was talking about in terms of the Items this morning. “What?" 

She continued to stare at him with piercing eyes. “You didn't feel it? There was a flare in their energy — all seven at once.”

Marik frowned, his mind racing. He hadn't noticed anything like that. “Their…energy?”

“Well, yeah. What else would bring Hamasaki straight to KaibaCorp like that?”

Marik’s eyebrows shot upwards. He didn't know what the fuck was going on, but a name was something he could use. “Hamasaki?" 

Astarte looked panicked for a moment, but recovered quickly, plastering on an easy, nonchalant smile. “Yeah, but I wasn't supposed to say that. Not supposed to be helping you.”

_Why?! Who are you?!_

“I suppose it makes sense though, that you didn't feel it,” she added, talking almost to herself. “That would mean you had nothing to do with it. So it must have been caused by…” She trailed off, her face becoming serious again. “Oh no.”

“Astarte—”

“I’m done here.” She stood up, draining the rest of her mug, then slamming it heavily down on the table, standing up. “Later, Ishtar.”

A rush of indignance surged through him as he got to his feet too. Astarte might have been done, but he wasn't. “Hang on a second — what are you talking about?! What did I not notice this morning?!”

Astarte narrowed her eyes coolly. “I told you I wasn't supposed to be helping you.”

“But— but that's part of it too, who _are_ you, and why can't you—”

“Ishtar,” she said, her voice low, taking one step toward him, a warning. Her wild dark hair fanned out behind her almost like a lion’s mane. “That's enough.”

Marik swallowed, refusing to break eye contact. Then he took a single step backwards, giving her a clear path to the door, grudgingly admitting defeat.

_She could be stronger than I am, and I don't want to put these people in any danger. I’ll follow her and catch her when there are fewer people around._

Astarte smirked, making her way over to the door, glancing over her shoulder one last time at Marik as she closed it.

He drank the rest of his tea.

_Five…four…three…two…one…_

_Go._

He got to his feet, leaving the last few pearls in the bottom of his cup, running out the door, giving the barista a quick nod. As he stepped out onto the street, he quickly looked left and right, searching for Astarte. His pulse quickened, and he felt a rush of relief, as he spotted her at the end of the street, walking further away from KaibaCorp, an inch or so taller than most of the people around her.

He wrapped his coat more tightly around himself, and slipped carefully between the small bunches of people using the path, moving just a touch more quickly than they were, never taking his eyes off Astarte. Just quickly enough to ensure he didn't lose her, but not quick enough to draw attention to himself.

Astarte continued in the same direction, never leaving the thick crowd. Then, she began to peel off towards the gutter, and when she reached the middle of the street, she glanced once in both directions, before stepping out into the road. 

_T-that’s jaywalking!_

Marik quickened his pace, glancing around for some way to follow her without drawing attention to it — there were pedestrian lanes at both ends of the road, but waiting for the right lights to turn green would take too long. _Shit!_

Astarte glanced over her shoulder, not looking at all surprised to see him, wearing that same, confident smirk. Marik stared at her, trying to work out some way to get to her, or at least arrange to talk to her again.

A bus passed between them, and he stared at his own reflection for a few moments.

Then she was gone.

Marik stared at the empty sidewalk for a few moments in disbelief. _How did she—?_

He glanced around to try and find any sign of her, but she’d completely vanished. He swallowed, feeling unease begin to settle in his stomach.

_Who exactly was she? How does she know things? Where did she go?_

He placed one hand on the Rod, reaching out to Bakura telepathically.

**_Hey, Bakura? I think there’s something else you might want to factor into this plan of yours._ **

 

* * *

 

 

Akira wasn’t sure how long she stared at the door.

Back pressed to the other side of the corridor, she clutched the rope attached to Millennium Puzzle in one hand, her mind moving at a million miles an hour, yet without forming a single coherent thought. If any part of her was keeping up, it was her heartbeat, pounding in her ears far more quickly than it should. Her initial rush of anger was beginning dissolve, leaving her feeling emotional and fragile, her adrenaline fading.

She’d been ready to trust Marik completely, to help him find the truth about her brother. He’d been her only hope of making sense of what had happened. But he’d killed people, and he’d hidden that from her.

 

_Leave. Run away. Forget him._

_He’s hurt you._

_You can work this out for yourself. You trusted him. You were stupid. You hardly knew him. But it’s done now._

_What business did he have with your family anyway? You should go._

_Why are you still here?_

 

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She needed a few minutes to breathe.

After Tadako’s death, she’d sworn to do everything she could to prevent anything like that from happening again. She hadn’t quite worked out just how she’d do that, or how far she was willing to go, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to align herself with someone who’d killed two people. More intensely than ever, right now, she hated death, and anyone who was responsible for it. And Marik was no exception.

She froze as she heard Marik’s muffled voice on the other side of the door, unable to hear the words. She instinctively tightened her grip on the rope, realising she should leave, quickly — she didn’t want him to open the door and find her still here. She didn’t want to see him again.

Looping the Millennium Puzzle around her neck, (it was cumbersome to hold, and the rope seemed to be a good length for that), she caught the elevator down to the ground floor, and stepped out onto the freezing street, numbly making her way over to the nearest bus stop.

As she walked, she turned the Puzzle over in her hands, examining it carefully. Being honest, she wasn’t sure exactly what she’d been thinking when she’d taken it from Marik — first she’d picked it up to use in self-defence (not that she knew how to use it for that), then she’d kept it, because surely it was better if she had it, rather than leaving it in the hands of a murderer _._

It was incredibly clear to her how badly that could turn out.

And anyway, since she was now looking into her brother’s death herself, if Yugi Mutou had duelled Tadako, and he had some kind of link with the Puzzle, then maybe the Puzzle was key to whatever had happened? Not that she’d been thinking that far ahead, but it had worked out well.

There was more to it than that though. Being honest with herself, she’d been drawn to the Puzzle from the start. It seemed so much more mysterious than the others, since Marik didn't seem to know exactly what it did aside from starting shadow games, and used to house the soul of an ancient pharaoh.

That, combined with the fact that when she’d held it before, _something_ had happened. She’d been partway through a sentence, and she’d seen something — a flash of gold, and an obscured, silhouetted figure. The more fanciful side of her had wondered if something in the Puzzle had been trying to reach out to her.

She smiled — the rational side knew she was being completely delusional, and probably just got the sun in her eyes.

She reached the bus shelter, shivering slightly, still feeling tense and restless. Using her sleeve, she wiped away the fog on the glass covering the timetable, scanning it for her bus number. It would be a fifteen minute wait before her bus arrived. Sighing, she sat down on the plastic seat, and pulled out her phone and headphones. She’d taken to listening to new genres of music since last week — music that didn’t remind her of her brother. She put on the soundtrack for an American film she knew nothing about, and watched the snow.

The bus eventually pulled up, and she moved towards the back out of habit. She removed the Puzzle from around her neck, resting it in her lap, the shortness of her hair still surprising her as she slipped the rope over her head — a week ago, it had been long, reaching halfway down her back. Now, it only reached her shoulders. That had been a sudden decision too. 

She hadn’t been thinking a lot of things through lately.

Hissing softly, the bus left the stop, seamlessly joining the rest of the traffic. She stared out the window, at the people on the sidewalk — there weren’t as many, now that most of them had gone into work. A young woman in dressier clothes talking into a phone, a tray of takeaway cups in one hand. A beggar and his dog, camped outside, near a supermarket. Another girl with dyed hair and a duel disk strapped to her arm, leaning against the entrance to a café. Then, as they rounded a corner:

 _Marik?_  

She took in a sharp breath, quickly turning her head to check that it really was him — the sandy-haired duelist —  no, _murderer_ — was standing on the side of the road, looking at the other side of the street, his eyes round with something like disbelief. 

She swallowed, looking away as the bus hurtled onward. She didn’t care. She didn’t plan on seeing him again. She would start thinking about something else, any second now.

Any second.

It suddenly occurred to her that maybe she should have asked a few more questions about the murders he’d committed. He’d seemed like such a good person. He was going to the trouble of finding out the truth about the death of someone he didn’t even know, and had almost nothing to do with, just because he felt it was the right thing to do. 

She looked down, at the Puzzle. That had always seemed too good to be true.

She shifted in her seat, unable to relax. Some part of her was still anxious, and restless, as though in some corner of her mind, something was holding its breath.

The more she noticed it, the worse it got.

As the bus pulled into her street, she almost forgot she needed to get off. She only realised her stop was nearing when a stranger — a tall woman with long hair — brushed against her as she moved down the aisle. Looping the Puzzle around her wrist, she hastily got to her feet and hurried after her, giving the driver a small, polite bow, before tapping her bus card and stepping out onto the street. 

She got halfway down the street when she heard someone call her name. “Kioru!” 

Akira frowned, turning around. A young woman — the same woman from the bus — stood on the corner of the street. She blinked at her. “Hello?”

The woman gazed back at her, her eyes dark and steady. She had the same tanned skin as Marik. “You have the Puzzle.”

Akira’s eyes widened, and she took in a sharp breath, instinctively tightening her grip on the rope the Puzzle was suspended from. “Who are you?”

The woman said nothing, walking slowly and deliberately towards her — Akira took a half-step back, ready to run if she needed to. She had no idea what was happening, but she didn't like the fact that she'd been followed to her home by someone she’d never met, but knew her name, and knew about the Items. She glanced once at the Puzzle, and then slipped it around her neck, trying to remain calm. “Who _are_ you?” she repeated, her voice rising.

The woman, now only a few feet away, stopped suddenly. She eyed Akira for a few moments, then smirked. “It depends who you ask.”

“Wha—”

“Look, you can make this easy, or make this hard,” she said suddenly. “I’ll put it bluntly. If I let you keep the Puzzle, it's going to cause problems. Not your fault, but that's just how it is. So either you can give it to me, or I’ll take it by force. So what’s it going to be?”

Akira’s mouth went dry. _What?_

“And, trust me on this, I _really_ wouldn't mind doing this the hard way if you want to make me,” she added, smirking.

_What?!_

She stood there, rooted to the spot, her heart racing, lost for words.

_Give up the Millennium Puzzle?_

No. No _way_. Unless she chose to associate with Marik again, the Puzzle was her only way of finding out anything else about her brother’s death. Even if she didn't know how she’d do it yet, she wasn't going to give up her only chance at trying. 

Besides, if she just handed it over, there was no telling what might happen to it after that. Who might use it. Who else might get hurt.

Who might die the way Tadako did.

And if she had any kind of wish, it was to prevent that. Her wish was to save people.

“I— I’m not giving you the Puzzle!"

The woman looked surprised. Her voice grew low, and dangerous. “ _What?”_

Akira took a deep breath, standing up straighter. “I don't want to give it up,” she repeated. “I don't know exactly what’s happening, or who you are, so I have no idea if I can trust you. And if I gave you the Puzzle now, and people got hurt because of it, I couldn't live with that.”

“What—”

“What's more,” Akira continued, speaking very quickly, her voice slowly rising in pitch, “Even if I’ve ended up with the Puzzle kind of by accident, I also want to see what it does and whether I can use it. And I want to use it to find out what happened to my brother.” She swallowed. “So I guess I’m choosing to do this the hard way.”

The woman stared at her — the look of confidence that had been on her face before was gone, her resolve dampened, her eyes dark. She glanced down at the pavement. “I’m really sorry about your brother, kiddo”.

Akira’s eyes widened. “I— how did you know I—”

She met Akira’s eyes again, smiling sadly. “I know a lot of things. And I’m sorry I have to do this." 

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Wait, do what—”

The woman closed her eyes, and after a moment, a golden haze appeared around her fingertips. The shining gold particles, almost like sand, twisted and curled and multiplied, slowly taking on form, making two hooked swords.

Akira took a half-step back, clenching her fists, acutely aware of the fact that this woman might just kill her. Her heart thudded against her sternum, beating faster than she’d ever felt it beating before, as though it was trying to make up for the beats that might be lost if her life ended here.

_Mum and Dad if I die here I’m really really sorry this is awful timing right after Tadako, I love you both so much, I’ll make sure I say hi to him for you, also Juno I’m really sorry I took your pen after Science yesterday and won't be able to return it, oh fuck I don't even have a will I could leave it to you in, and oh gosh you and Sun are the best friends I could ever hope to have, I’m sorry I never said so properly, also I’m so sorry Kakiyasu-sensei about not practising guitar enough, you work so hard to teach your students we hardly do anything in return and now it's all going to be a waste anyway because I’m about to die—_

Then everything felt like it was slowing down. The woman raised her swords.

_I’m about to die._

_This is happening._

The woman spun the swords a few times, once with her right hand, then her left, then both at the same time, as if getting used to the weight. “It’s funny, I usually enjoy things like this. I don’t know that I will this time.”

Akira closed her eyes, suddenly feeling strangely still.

_I guess I’m dying then._

_Okay._

Then, she felt her senses beginning to slip away. Panic rose in her throat, her mouth going dry.

_W-wait, I haven’t been stabbed yet!_

As everything began to go dark, she heard a voice disturbingly like her own, if a little deeper.

“Would you like to play a game?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! got this out a bit later than I'd like but at least it's done now?
> 
> I feel like I'm running out of ways to say "well that sure escalated" in these end notes, much mystery, very drama :o
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!! If you have any thoughts or theories I'd love to hear them ^^
> 
> Oh and a heads up, I made some minor edits to the prologue a couple of weeks ago, just changing around the pronouns of a particular character, but that's all, you might want to go back and re-read it but if not that's also totally okay too :)
> 
> Also, [I drew Astarte](https://brightbriar-writes.tumblr.com/post/178918689568/astarte-she-really-gets-some-spotlight-in) ^^
> 
> Thanks friends!! <3


	10. Chapter Nine: Exchange and Stray Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marik meets Hamazaki, and also someone significantly smaller.

Astarte leaned against the wall of a temple, a glass of red wine in one hand. She took a small sip, sighing contentedly as raw energy flowed through her veins. It was her way of licking figurative wounds. “ _Whew._  I needed that.”

A voice came from the other side of the altar. “Are you alright?”

“Psh, I’m fine. I’m a _god,_ for fuck’s sake, it takes more than a shadow game to get rid of me. You don't need to worry.”

“But you—”

“I'm _fine_.”

There was a pause. “I was going to say you’re _relying_ on me. Isn't that still right?”

Astarte was silent. She took another swig of the wine.

“ _Astarte_.”

“Yes, yes. Yes.”

“And if you’re relying on me, then I should worry about you sometimes.”

“Sure. Yes.”

There was a long silence. The other person spoke again. “So you think getting the girl involved was Hathor’s move?”

“Yeah.” Astarte glared into her glass. “And I’m sure she’s stronger than she looks, even on her own, knowing Hathor. If only we’d realised it earlier.”

There was a heavy silence. Then the other person spoke again.

“I’m going to get some more booze.”

 

* * *

 

 

“And you're _sure_ you’re fine?”

Marik smiled grimly, glancing at Bakura. He’d just arrived back at KaibaCorp, and told the spirit everything that happened with Astarte in the café. “Yeah, I’m much better. Astarte distracted me.” _Time to bottle up all that anxiety from before and never think about it ever again. Self care~_

The spirit nodded. “Yeah, sure. It sounds like there’s a lot going on that we don’t know about.”

Marik frowned, thinking deeply. “That’s…probably an understatement. But hey, at least we got a name? Astarte said that person who attacked me before was called Hamasaki.”

Bakura sighed. “True, but it’s a fairly common family name. We’d need more than that to find her again.”

Marik grimaced. “…Yeah. I sent Akira a text on my way back, asking if she recognised it, but she hasn’t responded.”

The spirit raised an eyebrow. “You really thought she would? After she yelled at you and ran away?”

“No, not really. But there's no harm in trying.”

Bakura paused, tipping his head slightly to one side. “That's true. But are you _sure_ you want to prioritise going after Hamasaki over getting the Puzzle back?”

Marik sighed. “No. But we have a lead on Hamasaki, and Akira might just need some time. Besides, it's not like she’s in any danger — she doesn't know how to use the Puzzle, let alone start a shadow game or anything.”

The spirit eyed him thoughtfully for a few moments, then shrugged. “If you say so.”

Marik said nothing, glancing at the cups of cold, half-drunken tea on the desk. Being honest, he wasn't sure that leaving Akira alone with the Puzzle was a good idea. But unless he forcibly took it from her, he didn't have much of a choice. He was kind of hoping that if he gave Akira a couple of days, all of this would blow over — he’d be able to explain what happened with those murders properly, Akira would return the Puzzle, and everything would be okay.

Pursuing Hamasaki was the only thing he could think of in the meantime.

“We could just use the Ring,” he said suddenly, thinking aloud, glancing at Bakura. “It’s just like a compass, right? It points at whatever you’re looking for?”

Bakura raised an eyebrow at Marik. “If _you_ want to openly hold a conspicuous magic gold artefact out in front of you while you walk aimlessly around the city for gods know how long, then be my guest. But I don’t think we should use the items so openly.”

After a moment’s thought, Marik made a quiet noise of agreement, sitting down in the ergonomic chair behind the office desk and pulling out his phone, as if that might give him an idea. He opened up his contacts, absently scrolling through them to see if he could get in touch with anyone else who might know about this Hamasaki person. He didn’t expect to — he didn’t have many names in his contacts. He paused as his eyes landed on one that was oddly unfamiliar.

_Hirata Hiroki._

He frowned. He knew he’d heard that name somewhere before, but he had no idea where, and there was no photo.

“Hey, Bakura, do you remember the name ‘Hirata Hiroki’?”

The spirit frowned, staring intently at Marik’s deck, floating just above the table as it shuffled itself, not taking his eyes off it. “No. Why?”

“It’s in my contacts, but I can’t remember who it is. If they’re from Japan, then I must have come across them recently. The only people whose numbers I saved from battle city are Yugi’s friends.” Crossing his legs in the chair, he sent Hirata a text.

**(12:15) Hi Hirata, I’ve got your number in my phone but I’ve forgotten who you are, maybe? — Marik Ishtar**

_(12:16) Oh! I met you at Kioru Tadako’s funeral :)_

_(12:16) hslkjh bad use of a smiley face_

_(12:16) but that’s where you know me from_

Marik’s eyes widened. _Oh, right, I guess I accidentally blocked out that entire day because of the trauma with my Dad. …Self care._

**(12:18) Oh my gosh I remember now, sorry about that**

_(12:18) All good dude, you seemed super out of it_

_(12:18) You said you were trying to work out what happened to Tadako?? How’s that going_

Marik almost laughed. He felt like responding with “badly” was both an understatement, and not the kind of reassurement that a friend of Tadako’s would want. He decided to dodge the question altogether.

**(12:18) Actually, you might be able to help me — is the name Hamasaki familiar to you at all?**

_(12:18) Yeah, it is actually, let me think_

_(12:19) You mean Taylor?_

**(12:19) Ginger hair?**

_(12:19) Yeah, she died it recently! She was Tadako’s girlfriend_

_(12:19) *DYED HJFLK_

Marik blinked, his eyes going round. For some reason, he hadn’t been expecting anything like that. “Holy shit, Bakura.”

He looked over — the deck of cards fell onto the table in a heap as his concentration wavered. “What?”

“Read this.”

He angled the phone towards Bakura, and the spirit leaned closer, his eyebrows shooting upwards. “Good work.”

Marik’s lip quirked up slightly as he typed a reply.

**(12:20) You wouldn’t happen to have her phone number or something, would you?**

_(12:20) Hmmm no phone number but she’s on twitter_

_(12:20) You wanted to talk to her?_

**(12:21) Yeah, if that’s possible**

_(12:21) I’ll shoot her a message now :)_

Marik placed the phone on the table, glancing at Bakura. “Well, that’s progress.”

The spirit nodded, returning to the cards. “Yeah, sure.”

Marik yawned, stretching. Being honest, as much as the events of the morning had put him on edge, they’d also made him more than a little tired. He glanced at Bakura. “What’re you trying to do with those cards, anyway?”

“You’ll see. Actually—” he broke off, his eyes following the cards as they floated back to the table in a neat pile. Or maybe the cards were following his eyes. “Pick up that top card, will you?”

He blinked, reaching over. “What, this one?”

“Yeah. See if it’s Fire Princess.”

Marik frowned. “It’s Ghost Knight of Jackal.”

The spirit glowered at the deck. “Nevermind.”

The card struggled in his grip for a moment — Marik opened his fingers, and it flew back to the deck. He blinked at Bakura. “How long have you been able to do that, anyway? Levitating things, I mean.”

“Since I came back. Probably a ghost thing. Only works with really light stuff.”

“Huh.”

Bakura shrugged, shuffling Ghost Knight of Jackal back into the deck, and then glancing at Marik. “I hadn’t realised you’d taken Hinotama out of your deck.”

Marik swallowed, suddenly feeling uneasy. Hinotama…was definitely no longer his favourite card. It wasn’t even something that reminded him of _him_ — it reminded him of an older version of the him who was actually him, who he didn’t particularly like anymore. “I…took a lot of cards out of my deck,” he said slowly.

“True, but that one was, I don’t know… _iconic.”_

Marik smiled wryly. “I’d say Winged Dragon of Ra was more iconic. I was kind of forced to take it out too.”

Bakura shrugged. “Anyway. The new ones suit you. Might even suit you better, actually.”

“Maybe. I haven’t had much of a chance to use them—”

He broke off as he heard his phone buzz, and two messages appeared on his home screen, from an unknown number.

_(12:26) Hey fam its Taylor I’m free this avo, you down for ramen? ;)_

_(12:26) Oh yeah and bring the spooky ghost guy too_

 

* * *

 

“So,” Marik said, sitting across the table from Taylor, who wore the same hoodie as she had that morning. “You jumped through my window, accused me of murder, tried to kill me, and then called me ‘fam’.”

Taylor sipped on her soft drink, looking at Marik. “That just about sums it up, yeah.”

It was odd. Sitting with her in a small, dark, fairly cheap café, it was easy to forget just how much of a threat she’d been this morning. They’d found a table in the corner with four seats — Bakura sat to Marik’s right, looking uncomfortable. Taylor seemed completely at ease, although Marik hadn't missed the fact that she’d chosen to sit at the edge of the table, where she had an escape route — it was something he’d noticed Bakura doing before. Without the hood and scarf obscuring her face, he could make out her features much more easily. Like Hirata had said, her hair had been dyed a pale, almost pastel ginger colour — it was short, thick, and almost looked fluffy, having been swept to one side, but she also had an undercut on the left side of her head, and there, her roots were clearly dark. Her bright hazel eyes had a distinct slant to them, and her features were all sharp and angular. A single gold earring hung from her left ear, where it wasn’t obscured by her hair.

Marik was entirely unsure of what to make of her.

He sat holding the Rod under the table, resting it in his lap, but if Taylor had realised, she didn’t show any sign. He swallowed. “You’ve got a lot I think you could explain.”

“Like what?”

Marik opened his mouth to speak, but Bakura cut in, looking royally pissed. “Like why the Rod doesn’t have any effect on you. How you know about the Millennium Items. Why you can see me. What you know.”

Taylor nodded. “Sure, I can do that. But I want something out of it.”

Marik and Bakura exchanged a wary glance. Marik frowned at her. “Like what?”

She shrugged, crossing her ankle over her knee. “Dunno. Something interesting. Or just money. What’ve you got?”

Marik bit his lip — they had the Items, and that was about it. “How much money are we talking?”

“Hmm, 20 000 yen is a nice round number, don’t you think?”

Marik winced. That was a lot, but they didn’t have much bargaining power. “You must have some pretty good information, for that kind of price.”

“Of course,” she said, smirking slightly. “This is stuff only I can tell you.”

Bakura narrowed his eyes, a little suspicious. “What kind of stuff, exactly?”

“What you were just asking. How I found you, and my connection to the Items.”

“What about your relationship with Tadako?” Marik added.

Taylor blinked. “You’re interested in Tadako?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to work out why he died.”

She nodded, a slight quirk at the corner of her lips. “‘Why’, rather than ‘how’? I guess you think it must’ve been a shadow game too then, huh?”

Marik nodded. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Mm. So, how’s 20 000 yen sounding?”

Marik and Bakura exchanged a glance. Marik didn’t even need to use the Rod for them to mutually agree, _yeah, we can steal that much money without anyone noticing_. “Deal,” Marik said. “And I’ll pay for the meal, too,” he added, with absolutely no intention of actually paying for the meal. He had the Rod with him, so he might as well use it.

She grinned. “Nice. I like you two.”

“Good,” Bakura said shortly. “Now start talking. How did you find us this morning, and why did you think Marik had killed Tadako?”

Taylor sighed, pushing her hands into the pocket of her hoodie, lowering her voice. “Well, I kind of suspected Tadako died because of a shadow game too, and you had all of the Items, so I jumped to conclusions. It was the only thing that made sense. And as for finding you, that’s, er, a little complicated.” She glanced around, making sure no one was listening, and then leaned in slightly. “I have a connection with the Scales. It’s been in my family for a generation before me, given to my mother by a priest named Shadi—”

 _“Shadi?”_ the pair of them said in unison, before glancing at each other, confused. “ _You_ know Shadi?”

Bakura blinked, frowning. “I’m surprised _you_ do.”

Marik shrugged, feeling slightly shaken. Being suddenly reminded of Shadi — of _that_ day — was unnerving. “We’ll talk about it later,” he said slowly, glancing back at Taylor. “Go on.”

Taylor blinked, looking slightly amused and bewildered. “Yeah, well, Shadi gave the Scales to my mother years ago. It responds to me the same way that it does to her. She left it to me when she died, but long story short, my asshole brother was a stupid asshole, and the family lost it.”

Bakura looked thoughtful. “And your mother got the Scales at least ten years ago, I assume?”

Taylor paused, frowning slightly. “I mean, yeah, but it was way more than that. She’s had them since before I was born. Why?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

She swallowed nervously. “I haven’t seen the Scales since I was younger, but I’ve felt its energy multiple times, and twice recently — once yesterday morning, and once this morning. And I used that feeling to track you.”

Marik frowned. “You could use its ‘energy’ to track me?” _The same energy Astarte was talking about?_

“Yeah. Well, not to track you, but to track the Scales — you just happened to be nearby. Couldn’t you do that if someone was using the Rod but it was far away from you?”

“I…I don’t think so?”

Bakura glanced at him. “Are you sure? Because that’s definitely a thing. Ryou was able to retrieve the Ring after Honda threw it out a window one time, because I was making it give off energy for him to sense.”

Marik shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I guess I’ve never had to track the Rod down like that.” _Although I can think of multiple instances where I maybe should have felt something._

Bakura didn’t respond, deep in thought. “But for Taylor to sense the Scales, something must have set them off. Usually it would be someone using them, but no one’s touched them.”

Taylor frowned. “Wait, really? I assumed someone had.”

They both glanced at Marik, who just shook his head, feeling incredibly confused. _One more thing to add to the list of things that make absolutely no sense._

After a few more moments of silence, Taylor shrugged. “Anyway. Whatever’s been causing them to act up, that’s how I found you. And my connection with them is probably why I can see you, too,” she added, nodding to Bakura.

Marik nodded, surprised at how open she was being. _We_ are _paying her, I guess_. “And what about your relationship with Tadako?”

To Marik’s surprise, Taylor grinned. “I guess you heard about that from Hirata? He told you I was Tadako’s girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s not gonna be up to speed on that. I’m gay.”

Marik blinked, surprised, though he probably wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t been told she’d been dating a guy already. The hair was a bit of a clue, now that he thought about it. “Oh, cool. So—”

He broke off as Bakura tapped him on the arm, smirking, then mouthing the words ‘Millennium Gaydar’.

The duelist took in a deep breath as he was assaulted with flashbacks to Battle City, but he refused to indulge the spirit. That was a _stupid_ in-joke, they were _not_ talking about this now—

“Is everything okay?” Taylor was glancing between them nervously.

Marik cleared his throat, giving her an apologetic smile. “Yeah, sorry, that's fine. He’s just being a bastard. So, Er— If you’re gay, why did Hiroki think you were dating Tadako?”

Taylor shrugged. “Well, he was right, for a time. I wasn’t sure how accepting my family would be once I fully realised I liked girls. I, er, I kind of freaked out, actually. The only person I knew who wasn’t straight was Tadako — we were in the same grade in school, and shared a couple of classes, and he was _very_ openly bi,” she said, laughing fondly. “And since he wasn’t dating anyone already, I asked him for help out of the blue, if he would fake date me, as if just because I’d suddenly realised it, everyone else would too, and I wanted to hide.” She took another sip of her soft drink, and then smiled slowly. “And he actually said yes, because he was a selfless idiot like that. We “dated” for about six months.”

Marik nodded. “And he was bi — do you know if he liked you? Y’know, that way?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. We mostly played video games. He was an amazing friend though,” she said, looking wistful, adding casually, “Which was why I was so ready to murder you. Seriously, ask anyone — he was a great guy. That’s why this whole thing is so strange. He didn’t really have any enemies.”

As Marik began to reply, a waitress came over with their ramen. Both of them made a start on their food, while Bakura glanced at Taylor, saying, “Did you ever tell Tadako about the scales?”

Taylor shook her head as she finished her mouthful, wiping the corner of her mouth with her hand. “No. By that point, I hadn’t seen them for a year.”

“When did you lose them?”

“Around August, four years ago.”

Bakura frowned. “If you've sensed people using them since then, why didn't you try and track them down?”

Taylor gave him a wry kind of smile. “I would have if I could, but I was halfway across the world. I grew up in Japan, but I lived in California for six years. I only came back to Domino a couple of years ago.”

Marik nodded. “And that was after KaibaCorp hosted the Battle City tournament?”

Taylor frowned. “I guess so? It sounds familiar, but if it was duel monsters, it could just be because Tadako talked about it.”

Marik nodded — Battle City had been such a big deal at the time, there was no way she could have forgotten if she’d been in Domino. _And then the Items all went back over to Egypt. She must’ve just missed them._

Taylor had returned to her ramen, apparently unconcerned. As Marik took a mouthful of his own, Bakura asked, “Why did you agree to meet with us today?”

Taylor shrugged. “I mean, I was curious as to why you were in Japan again, if it wasn't because you'd killed Tadako. Anyone who suddenly shows up with seven Millennium Items is bound to be interesting.”

Marik nodded — Bakura glanced at him, looking concerned.

Marik had another mouthful of ramen, activating the Rod, sitting in his lap. **_What's up?_ **

**_Again_ ** , Bakura replied silently. **_She said you were in Japan “again” — should she know that?_ **

**_Shit, good point._ **

Marik had some more of the ramen, brow furrowed, glancing at Taylor. _Maybe I can find out whether she knows about Yugi’s history with the Puzzle, and Atem.._. “Did you know Yugi at all?”

Taylor shook her head. “No, I haven't met him. Why do you ask?”

“I just— he’d be the most logical person to suspect, right? If you think it was a shadow game?”

“Yeah, but he didn't have an Item.”

Marik nodded — that would make sense for her to say whether she knew about the Items’ recent history or not. _Come on, give me something._ “Still, it's unlikely that he’s not connected to this somehow, don't you think?”

“Mm. Especially since a shadow game is usually started by one of the two participants. But neither of them had the means as far as you know, right?”

“Yeah, right.” _Fuck, that didn't tell me anything._

Bakura glanced at Taylor. “Were you trying to work out what happened to Tadako too?”

Taylor shook her head. “Honestly? Not really. It hadn't occurred to me that the Items might be involved until yesterday. I wasn't expecting to find all seven in the one place this morning, either. I was kind of thinking on the spot when I accused you of doing it, actually.”

Marik grimaced. “You convinced yourself pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, well, it sounded like you were openly admitting it, too.” She took another mouthful, and then looked up at Marik again, saying as clearly as she could through a mouthful of ramen, “By the way, if it wasn't Tadako, who did you kill?”

“That— that’s not your business. And it's not relevant to any of this.”

Taylor paused, swallowing. “Did they deserve it?”

Marik nodded.

“Alright, none of my business then.”

The duelist blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you seem like a pretty decent, reasonable person,” she said, twirling some more noodles on her fork. “So I’ll take your word for it.”

Marik nodded, his shoulders relaxing. _If only talking to Akira about that had been that simple…_

Bakura glanced at Marik for a moment, sensing his relief, and then looked back at Taylor. “Did you have any other questions for us?”

“Yeah, just the one. What exactly are you?” she said, gesturing towards Bakura.

Bakura looked away, looking tense. “I don't really know. A ghost, I guess.”

“Yeah, but why? How?”

“I _don't know_ ,” he repeated, a sharpness to his voice, still not meeting her gaze. “But I’m working on it.”

“Hm. Alright.” Taylor lifted her bowl, drinking the remainder of the soup, and then stood up. “I’ll get the meal. Consider it thanks for not trying the Rod on me again.”

Marik stood up too. “No, you don't have to, I was going to get a takeaway box as well, so—”

“I’ll get that too, don't worry,” she said, a slight quirk to her lip. “It's not like this stuff’s expensive.”

Marik nodded, slowly sitting down again. “Alright, if you’re sure.” _I guess it’s better for my conscience if I don't brainwash the staff, anyway._

Taylor nodded, and headed up to the till, pulling a wallet out of the pocket of her hoodie. Marik glanced at Bakura. “Do you think any of that could be helpful?”

Bakura still looked vaguely disgruntled. “I suppose so. If it's true. But according to Taylor, Tadako didn't know a thing about the Items, so what does it matter if she used to have one?"

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Hm. Anyway, how’d you know Shadi?”

Marik swallowed. “He was, er, _there_ , when my dad died. Something he said was what made me want to destroy the Pharaoh so badly. At least that was part of it.”

Bakura was staring at him, his frown deepening. “How long ago was that again?”

“Eight years ago, just before Christmas.”

The spirit looked confused for a moment. He stared at the table, deep in thought. “Weird.”

“Why?”

“I— I thought I killed him about a year before that.”

It took a moment or two for this to sink in. Then Marik’s eyes widened. “Wait _what—”_

“Hey guys!” Taylor said cheerfully, heading back over to the table, placing a plastic bag next to Marik, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You ready to go?”

Marik and Bakura exchanged a glance. Shadi was something they would have to work out later. The duelist nodded to Taylor, standing up. “Yeah, I think so. We could walk you over to your bus stop or something, if you wanted to talk about anything else?”

“Nah, no need. I’m meeting up with my girlfriend a couple of blocks away.”

Marik smiled. “You’ve got a girlfriend now? You’re fully out?”

Taylor nodded, opening the door for them. “Sure am, since the family, er, isn't a problem anymore.” She swallowed, adding, before Marik or Bakura could say anything, “Her name’s Misato, and if you drag her into any of this, I’ll _actually_ stab you next time.”

Marik frowned, not missing the way she’d taken the attention off that comment about her family. “Yeah, sure. Noted.” _Her mother was given the scales, but she’s dead, the rest of her family…potentially still homophobic. Poor thing._

They stepped outside — Taylor put her hood up as all three of them were buffeted by a cold gust of wind. “Well, see you later, Marik. Bakura.”

Marik opened his mouth to respond, but Bakura cut across him, a sharp edge to his tone. “ _Wait.”_

They both glanced him, confused. Marik almost subconsciously placed one hand on the Rod, which hung at his belt. “Is something wrong?”

Bakura didn’t look at him — he was glaring at Taylor with enough intensity to make anyone want to shrivel up. “You’re hiding something still.”

Marik glanced between them. _Did I miss something?_

Taylor frowned. “I—”

Bakura cut her off, narrowing his eyes into slits. “You never asked for my name, and I never told you. Yes, you asked who I was this morning, but you left before I said anything. How did you learn my name between then and now?”

Taylor bit her lip, glancing around nervously. She swallowed, rubbing the back of her neck. “A-are you sure—”

“Yes, I’m sure no one mentioned it,” Bakura snapped. “And frankly, although I don’t know how involved with the Items your family was beyond keeping the Scales, you seem to know more than you should about their recent history, though you’ve tried not to give that away. So what gives.”

Taylor nodded, biting her lip, looking away for a moment. “Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Bakura repeated.

Taylor paused, thinking. “That’s…worth much more than 20 000 yen.”

Marik stepped forward, between Bakura and Taylor. He didn’t want a fight — not when he could easily produce any money they needed, so long as he could brainwash someone wearing a nice-looking suit into writing the cheque. “How much?”

“The Scales.”

His eyes widened. “ _What?”_

“The _Scales._ If I tell you that, if I tell you anything else, you’ve got to give me the Scales first,” she said slowly, almost carefully, her eyes flicking between the spirit and the duelist, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“No way,” Marik said sharply, not even pausing to consult Bakura. “I— we can’t do that.”

“Why not? It’s not like you’re using them. I could help you work out what’s causing those energy flares in the Items.”

“I—”

“You wouldn't keep the Necklace from your sister, would you?” she pressed, a more aggressive edge to her voice.

Marik’s eyes widened. “You _do_ know about things—”

“Maybe, but look, I—” she broke off, a kind of bitterness in her voice which was also accompanied by panic. “I can't tell you why unless you give me the Scales first, but I _swear_ I haven't lied to you. And I haven't withheld anything about the last few days. We’re not enemies, Marik—”

“We don't know that,” Bakura spat. “Why should we trust you if we know you’re hiding something from us?”

“I wouldn't _have_ to hide it if I had the scales, so— _aagh!”_ She broke off suddenly, clutching her forehead.

Marik suddenly felt a strong pang of dread, combined with sympathy. He tentatively placed one hand on her shoulder, tightening his grip on the Rod. “Taylor—”

“Nngh,” she grunted, gently pushing his hand away, taking a step back, keeping her eyes closed, taking deep breaths. Then after a long exhale, she lowered her hands, and straightened, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“But—”

“I’m _fine._  You’re not giving me the Scales, so— so I can't tell you what that was.”

Marik nodded, unsure. “Yeah…yeah, I suppose so.” _We’re still not handing over the Scales, so I guess that’s how it’s got to be._

After a long pause, Taylor swallowed, glancing at the ground. “Well, it was worth a shot. I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah. Once your story starts fitting in with some other things, I’ll get the money to you,” Marik said carefully. “Thank you for telling us what you could.”

She grimaced. “It’s nothing. If you think there's anything else I can do, let me know. And you can ask me anything about Tadako.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Taylor nodded, beginning to leave. Bakura continued to glare at her silently. Marik hesitated, then called out, “Hey, Taylor?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck with whatever that was.”

She smiled wryly at him. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Then she turned her back on them, pushing her hands into her pockets, and made her way down the street, deeper into the city, without looking back.

Marik didn't even look at Bakura, staring after her. “That was another personality, wasn't it.”

The spirit nodded. “Definitely.”

“Cool.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, contemplating how they’d both managed to get into this mess. Marik peered inside the bag of takeaway ramen. _Shit, I didn’t ask Taylor to get something vegetarian._

Before it could fully occur to Marik that both of them had taken the possibility of there being another Taylor a bit too well, he shivered, and pulled his coat around himself. “Let’s get out of the cold, yeah?”

Bakura nodded, still glaring at nothing in particular. “Sure.”

Marik led the way back to KaibaCorp, about fifteen minutes away. He glanced at the spirit. “That could have been worse, I guess.”

“Mm. Still, whatever she’s hiding bothers me. _Who_ ever she’s hiding.”

“Yeah. Well, who knows, maybe it’s not relevant. Even if Taylor knew Tadako, she doesn’t seem connected to his death.”

Bakura nodded. “You’re probably right there. But I just—” He broke off, his eyes flicking to the pavement in front of them. “I wonder whether it’s relevant to why the fuck _I’m_ not dead.”

Marik blinked. Being honest, he’d kind of forgotten that Bakura was thinking about that too. He’d sort of assumed that once they worked out what was happening with Tadako, everything would come together. “It could all be connected,” he said slowly, watching his breath fog up the air in front of him. “At least, that’s what I was hoping. It’ll work out.”

Bakura just grimaced, his voice laced with bitterness. “Yeah. I sure hope it does.”

The duelist glanced at him, his gaze softening. “I’m sure we’ll work it all out eventually.”

“Yes, well. I think I’m done playing detectives for the moment.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda fun,” Marik grinned, hoping to lift the mood a bit. “Like being on some murder mystery TV show.”

“Psh, and this is the premise of the first episode? Tadako’s death?”

Marik paused, thinking about it. “Maybe, but it’s too long for one episode. Maybe working this out would be the whole first season.”

The spirit's lip quirked slightly. “Sounds like a stupid show. Too many card games. And bloody long.”

“Nah, I can totally see it!” He wrapped one arm around Bakura’s shoulder, stretching one hand out in front of them. “Marik Ishtar, the mysterious, off-the-beaten-track crime investigator with a dark past, and Bakura, his even more mysterious ghost sidekick. We could call it, er—” He broke off, frowning.

Bakura looked bemused. “What should we call it?”

“I don’t know, but for some reason, ‘Goncrete Giraffes’ just popped into my head.”

He frowned. “Concrete _what?”_

“Yeah, I don’t know either. Nevermind.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, before Marik suddenly said, “You know what, there’s literally nothing stopping me from brainwashing a bunch of people at Netflix and—”

“Marik, _no—”_

The spirit broke off as they heard a crash, followed by rather excessive cursing. A few cobs of corn rolled onto the footpath, from around the next corner. Marik glanced at Bakura. “We’d better see if anyone needs help.”

Bakura didn’t roll his eyes, but the look he gave Marik had the same energy.

Marik quickened his pace slightly, rounding the corner, to see a street food stand which had completely tipped over. The sign next to it said ‘Tomorokoshi’, and as far as he could tell, it looked like grilled corn.

A tall, burly man was gathering up a white tarp which had been knocked to the ground, muttering under his breath. Marik gave him a wave. “Want a hand?”

The man glanced in his direction — he had wrinkled eyes and a scruffy beard. “Yeah, thanks kid.”

_I’m— I’m nineteen— whatever._

He helped the foodseller find the corners of the tarp and fold it into a large square, then got down onto his knees and helped him pick up the ruined corn cobs. “So what happened here?”

“Bloody cat got under my feet. Lost m’balance and knocked everything over.”

Marik straightened slightly, instantly becoming more attentive. “A cat?”

“Yeah, she’s always hanging around, begging for scraps. Sweet little thing,” he said, his brow creasing with worry. “Hope she’s alright.”

“You think she might be hurt?” he said, trying not to sound too hopeful — if there was a chance the cat was hurt, he had a reason to go looking for it. He’d never actually seen a cat up close before.

The man looked unsure as he picked a laminated piece of paper off the ground, shaking snow off it. “Possibly. Not so hurt that she couldn't run off, but I could have trodden on her.”  He paused for a moment, thinking, and then glanced at Marik. “You wouldn't mind looking for her, would you? Just to make sure she’s okay?”

Marik blinked. His request was so perfect, he almost wondered whether he could've subconsciously used the Rod. “Me?”

“Yeah. I’ll cook up some more of this corn and give it to you free of charge if you can find her.”

He nodded, grinning. “Deal.”

The foodseller gave him a grateful look. “Good on you. I’ll be here for another few hours, but you don't go to the trouble of looking for her for that long. I think she went that way,” he added, gesturing down a nearby alley.

“Sure,” Marik said. “I’ll be right back. I’m sure she's fine.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be waiting here,” he said, sounding tired, but not ungrateful, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.

Marik nodded, glancing at Bakura, who looked exasperated, but not surprised. He went in the direction the man indicated, the spirit falling into place alongside him. “Marik, surely the last thing we need right now is a fucking _side quest_.”

“Shut up, there's a cat involved, therefore it's self care.”

“Self care?” Bakura echoed.

“Yeah, self care. Haven't you heard that phrase before?”

“…no. I’ve been dead for two years, remember?”

“Oh. Well, it's basically looking after yourself and doing things that make you happy. Taking care of yourself. Self care.”

Bakura made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “And that sounds like something I would have heard of?”

Marik grinned. “Alright, good point.”

The alleyway was lined with bins, filled with what looked like waste from nearby restaurants and cafés. He glanced at Bakura. “Do you think this is the direction he meant?”

The spirit nodded. “Probably. It’s an ideal spot for anything searching for scraps.”

As he spoke, a shuffling noise came from behind one of the bins, further down the alleyway. Marik turned, staring in the direction of the noise, gasping softly as a small shape with round yellow eyes appeared.

_Oh my gods it’s mine now I want to protect it and see it grow up strong and healthy and tell Rishid and Ishizu about it—_

Bakura glanced at him as the cat leapt out of the bin, landing neatly in the middle of the footpath, its sand-coloured coat peppered with black flecks. “Alright, maybe we should approach it quietly—”

Marik hardly heard him, his attention completely on the cat. “Hey, kitty kitty kitty!” he cooed, crouching down, so that he didn’t seem so big and threatening.

The cat seemed to hesitate, taking half a step back, one ear angled to the side. Marik placed the bag of takeaway ramen on the ground, opened up his box, and pulled out a strip of what looked like it could be pork (it was some kind of meat, he wasn't going to have it anyway), tossing it down the alleyway towards the cat. The cat flinched away as it landed on the ground near it, and then carefully padded over to it, whiskers twitching. It tentatively crouched to sniff the meat, ears pricked up with interest, taking a small bite, followed by a quick series of larger ones, before looking expectantly at Marik, raising its tail.

Bakura glanced between them. “Right, we’ve found the cat, it's not injured, we can get some free corn and go.”

“Aww, but ‘Kura, we can’t just leave her here.”

Bakura paused, frowning, his eyes widening as it slowly dawned on him what Marik was implying. “No, Marik, _no_ —”

“And she’s soooo cute—”

“Oh my _Gods,_ Marik, you can't just adopt a cat off the street.”

“It’s fine, we’ll just adopt her a _little_ bit.”

“That— that's not how that _works—_ ”

Marik ignored him, throwing another piece of probably-pork toward the cat. It looked young, as far as he could tell — although it had the build of an adult cat, it seemed undersized. The cat took it, and when Marik held out a third piece, it padded tentatively towards him, stopping and sitting down a few feet away. He smiled, tossing it another piece of meat — it flew just past the cat’s head, and it spun around, crouching to lick it up, its back turned.

Marik smiled fondly at it, sitting down on the pavement. Bakura crouched next to him, looking unimpressed. “This is a bad idea.”

He grinned. “I don’t know, ‘Kura. I think we’ve both had worse.”

“Ngh. Touché.” The spirit sat down, giving in. “I can’t stop you. You’re lucky she’s this tame.”

“Yeah. You don’t think she’s already got a family or something, do you?”

Bakura shook his head. “I doubt it. We’re nowhere near the suburbs, she hangs around the corn stand for food, and she’s looking pretty skinny.”

“True.”

The cat was looking at Marik again, its tail twitching back and forth. Marik smiled, and threw some more meat in its direction. Bakura looked surprised. “You’re not going to try and have it get closer? You could leave the food on the ground near us.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to force it. It needs some time to get used to me, and it might if we just sit here for a while.”

The spirit blinked. “Yeah, sure. When did you get so good with cats, exactly?”

Marik ducked his head, feeling a little embarrassed. “I mean, I’m not, really. I grew up with a pet snake, so I had to always try and make sure it wasn’t fearful of me, because that’s when they lash out. And when I was a kid, after, uh, _y’know_ , when I was plotting to get revenge on the Pharaoh, I didn’t have any kind of plan for after that. But I knew I wanted a cat, and when I was thirteen, Rishid found some books on them for me. I poured over them for hours,” he said quietly, smiling.

Bakura was silent for a few moments. Marik glanced at him — he was looking away, the tiniest quirk at the corner of his lip. Marik grinned, elbowing him in the ribs. “Oh my gods, Bakura, you’re _smiling_.”

Marik could have sworn the spirit’s complexion darkened slightly, before hiding his face behind his mess of white hair, facing the wall. “Sh-shut up. It sounds like a nice memory.”

“Yeah, it is,” he agreed. “You got any?”

There was a pause. Then: “We had a cat.”

Marik sat up straighter, looking over at him, more excited than he should have been by the mental image of a tiny Bakura with a fluffy kitty. “Really?! What did she look like? What was her name?”

Bakura stifled a laugh, attempting to continue to glare at nothing in particular as though his pride depended on it. “ _He_ was called Pnew.”

Marik grinned. “Like the old Egyptian word for ‘rat’?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t really ours — he just lived in Kul Elna, getting food from a handful of different families.” Bakura smiled a little again, slightly wistfully. “I liked him, though. He ran off when… _y’know_.”

Marik felt himself smiling too, glancing back at the cat in the alleyway. He didn’t call Bakura out for smiling again. He needed to do it more often, and he didn’t want to ruin it. “Well, I’m glad he was safe.”

“Yeah, me too. Wow, that…sure was hundreds of years ago, though.”

Marik grinned. “Yeah, you old fart.”

“I swear to the gods, Ishtar, I will tear out your oesophagus and shove it up your ass.”

Marik made a noise in the back of his throat, trying to stifle both fear and laughter. He grinned. “Yeah, sure, try not to put your back out though.”

“I mean it, Marik, do _not_ push me,” Bakura said, smirking, not quite meeting his eye, clearly trying to sound threatening, but unable to keep a hint of a laugh out of his tone. “You’re just jealous that I’m _wiser_ than you.”

“High wisdom, low intelligence,” Marik teased.

Bakura rounded on him, looking both amused, impressed, and offended. “Did you just try and roast _me_ with a _tabletop RPG pun?”_

Marik grinned.  “I don’t know, make an insight check.”

“Fine, fine! You got me. I hate you. Fuck off.” The spirit refused to look at Marik, but he was smiling.

Marik grinned, feeling far more triumphant than he should have. Especially given that Bakura was definitely already working out how he’d get him back. _At least listening to Ryou talk about D &D was finally good for something. _

He turned his attention back to the cat — it was still hanging around a few feet away from them, eyeing the box of ramen, looking almost hopeful. As Marik reached inside the box to give it some more, Bakura just gazed at it, looking content. Marik held out the thin piece of meat in front of him for a few moments, but the cat wouldn’t come any closer, simply sitting down, wrapping its tail around its paws, watching him hawkishly. Marik smiled, tossing it the meat.

_I’ll come back tomorrow and see if you’re any friendlier, kitty._

Bakura suddenly spoke up. “We could call her Sekhmet. After that one cat goddess of war.”

Marik grinned. “I like it.” Then he hesitated, glancing in Bakura's direction. “Seriously though, do you really want to keep her too? You should probably have some kind of say, since you’ll have to put up with her as long as you’re with me.”

The spirit stiffened, and then looked away. “I mean, it's a dumb idea, but I can’t stop you.”

Marik took a moment to work out the spirit’s response, and then grinned, only just stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Of course Bakura wouldn't want to admit that he liked the cat, since he seemed to equate fondness for other living creatures with weakness. _Proud_ _bastard._ “True, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

He swallowed. “Well. She is cute.”

_“Bakuraaaaa—”_

“Yes, fine, I want to keep her, now leave me alone!” he said, giving in, hiding his face with his hair, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘you are _so_ going to the _fucking_ shadow realm’.

Marik just grinned, feeling yet another disproportionate amount of triumph. He threw some more food to Sekhmet.

They sat in silence for a minute or so as snow began to fall, settling on Marik’s hair and shoulders, while it passed right through Bakura. Soon enough, though, Marik started shivering. Bakura glanced at him. “You should probably get home before you get too cold. We’ll talk to the corn guy on the way back.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that. And we’ll come back again tomorrow?”

Bakura nodded. “Sure.”

Marik smiled smugly to himself, standing up and dusting himself off as Sekhmet skittered back a few feet, startled by Marik’s sudden movement and size. The duelist, smiled, tossing her the last piece of soupy meat from the ramen. “See you, Sekhmet. We’ll be back.”

Sekhmet, crouched down to eat the food, paying him no mind. As Marik adjusted his coat, Bakura shuffled awkwardly. “By the way, uh, Marik?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m glad you’re here. It’s not so bad, not being alone all the time.” He said it quickly, as if he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, not quite meeting Marik’s eye. “Thank you for letting me hang around.”

Marik blinked, surprised. That was probably the most sentimental thing anyone could expect from the spirit. “Aww. Thanks ‘Kura. You’re okay company too.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll take it back if you call me that,” he muttered, glowering at nothing in particular.

“No you won’t,” Marik grinned.

“Fuck you. Look, it’s— it’s nothing to do with you specifically, I just— it can be nice having _someone_.”

The duelist nodded. “Yeah, fair enough. But if there is anything you like about me, you can say it,” he grinned, wondering just how far he could push his luck.

Bakura paused, looking thoughtful. “Well, I suppose we do complement each other.”

“Yeah, how?”

“You’ve got high intelligence, low wisdom.” Before Marik could protest, he continued, smirking: “You know at least three languages, but failed to notice the darker personality you shared your mind with for five years.”

Marik was silent for a few moments. Bakura winced. “Sorry, was that too much, or—”

Then Marik laughed. He doubled over, grinning at the pavement, resting his hands on his knees as he took a few moments to collect himself. “Sorry — I mean, it’s awful, you’re awful, I just—” He broke off again, covering his mouth, eyes shining with amusement, forcing himself to take a deep breath. He couldn’t bring himself to feel insulted _or_ traumatised. He grinned at Bakura. “It’s funny when you say it like that.”

The spirit looked relieved, his lip quirked ever so slightly upwards. “Of course it is.”

Marik shook his head, taking a deep breath, still smirking. _High intelligence, low wisdom. I’ll cop that._

Glancing one last time at Sekhmet, he pushed his hands into his pockets, the smile on his face refusing to fade. He still wasn’t sure how he’d managed to make a friend out of Bakura — the same Bakura who’d been actively gunning for people who Marik had come to care about, and who would happily kill people, without a second thought. Bakura, who would probably abandon him as soon as it suited him.

Bakura, who didn’t show his vaguely sensitive side to anyone except Marik.

He smiled. Bakura might not be the most _noble_ person. No, that was an understatement — he was _awful._ And Marik would always have a hard time trusting him completely.

But these little moments of peace made him want to.

These little moments of peace were what made Marik count him as a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOF THERE'S A LOT FOR THIS BIT BUCKLE UP PALS
> 
> 1\. For critical role fans, the urge to call this "chapter nein" was REAL but at least I got some d&d references in eh :D
> 
> 2\. Bringing back abridged references!! GOD I missed them and I'll miss that beautiful beautiful show so much when it gets wrapped up next year
> 
> 3\. I drew Taylor!! [It's ya gal](https://brightbriar-writes.tumblr.com/post/179634541583/hamazaki) (it's a link to tumblr btw, for people who are protesting about the nsfw ban)
> 
> 4\. I have two animatic things!! Because I watched a whole lot of vine compilations etc to procrastinate from uni last semester, I've got a whoooole list of these, hopefully the more I'll make the better I get!!
> 
>  
> 
> [this one is a reference to the scene in chapter four where Marik finds Bakura in an alley](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RpFO59OHq6o)
> 
>  
> 
> [and this one is a constant mood tbh but specifically @ chapters 6-9](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dAFGz2xSoS8)
> 
>  
> 
> so YEET
> 
> They're all unlisted so that anyone who reads this chapter in a few months time doesn't click on one of those, start watching future ones, and then get spoilers, but I'll make them all public when Not Guilty is done ~~in like four years~~! Hope y'all think they're fun!
> 
> (Also yeah Ghost!Bakura looks like thief king boi I don't think I ever mentioned that ~~probably because I changed it halfway through because the plot but I don't think I ever made it clear either way so there you go~~ )
> 
> uhhh what else
> 
> I love you all
> 
> I hope ur having fun
> 
> oh yeah and this was the longest chapter so far :o sorry if it was too much/sorry it took so long!! I'd love to hear your thoughts ^^
> 
> also I've just realised ao3 likes to put spaces around italiced words when converting from rich text to HTML so sorry if any of that's messy
> 
> thanks again for reading!! <3


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